


There’ll Be a Reason

by BlueRoboKitty



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Black Mirror Episode: s04e04 Hang the DJ, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Amnesia, Blind Date, Childhood Friends, Conspiracy, Drama & Romance, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Forced Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Galra Earth, Getting Back Together, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Mild Smut, Multi, Pining, Psychological Torture, Roommates, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Smoking, This is all based on a Black Mirror episode after all, probably, you will cry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-10 20:46:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17433251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRoboKitty/pseuds/BlueRoboKitty
Summary: Based on the Black Mirror episode: Hang the DJ.Two hundred years ago, the Galra took over Earth. Now they strictly control the dating scene with an iron fist: only those who participate in the Match program are allowed to date. All relationships have a unique expiration date, and cannot last longer or end before the set amount of time. For reasons.Newbie Keith is matched with his childhood friend Shiro. Theirs lasts only twelve hours, twelve hours Keith will never forget as their paths cross again and again.Nadia, a fighter pilot who just returned from space, ends up forced to spend an entire year as the girlfriend of the one guy who couldn’t be further from her Type: James Griffin. Who seems so much colder to her than usual.Lance has the perfect relationship with Allura, but he is haunted by lack of knowing when their relationship is destined to end, whether they have the next ten years together or only the next ten minutes. And what it means if he breaks their promise not to look.When these three doomed relationships intertwine, it could change the world forever. Because not even the Galra can control destiny. And everything happens for a reason.





	1. You Have a New Match

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I love Black Mirror. Love it, love it, love it. So when I watched S4E4 Hang the DJ, I knew I was absolutely 100% gonna write an AU for this. It’s such an OTP episode, and the whole concept absolutely fascinates me. Forced Relationship is one of my fave Tropes. 
> 
> This originally was just gonna be a Grizavi fic of them forced to spend a year as a couple, but as I developed the world, I realized there was so, so much more I could do with it. So Sheith and Allurance got involved too. Also, a new OT3 I’m excited to explore!!! Hunk/Romelle/Ryan!! Hunk has two hands in this kitchen, after all. 
> 
> This is a monster of a fic. There are so many characters who play a role in the plot, so many side ships besides the main three Sheith/Allurance/Grizavi. So many implied ships. Lots of drama. Lots of exciting things happening. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! And if you wanna talk to me about it, just hit me up on Twitter @bluerobokitty. 
> 
> Also pls give this song a listen. It’s what the episode was named after and it played during the end credits. An awesome little bop!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Match Program. Black Lion Brewers. Keith and Nadia receive new matches. Lance has a dilemma.

**-1-**

In the desert heart of the southwestern United States stood the sleepy town of Plaht City. Like every other settlement that had dared been built in one of the most hostile environments in the country, it was much too hot every month of the year except in January when temperatures plummeted to frigid and unbearable. And right now just so happened to be January. And in that chilled town hiding itself away from the deceptive late morning sunshine, a figure quickly made his way down the sidewalk, careful not to step on any black ice and have an embarrassing fall even if the streets were mostly empty except for the occasional car rolling by.

He’s our hero, or at least one of them, and his name was Keith. And like most heroes of these sorts of tales, very pleasant to look at. He was lean and muscular, though a bit shorter than average. His black hair curled just past his shoulders in little waves, long overdue for a trim that he never bothered to get, always ignoring the threats of his more fashion-inclined friends that promised to make him meet a pair of scissors one day. He blew into his gloved hands as he walked, smokey air swirling in his cupped black leather palms. The gloves, being fingerless, were virtually useless in this kind of weather, but he refused to take them off as much as he refused to clip off his split ends. He mostly wore all black, except for his scarf wrapped loosely over his shoulders, again, missing the point, and it was a deep crimson red that stood out in the frosty air and his pale neck like a fresh slash to his throat.

His backpack jostled on his shoulders as he sped up his gait, his destination close.

Black Lion Brewers was not a beer brewery although its inside had the dark sophisticated aura of a pub with its black oak walls, pipes criss-crossing high above, tables and sofas arranged carefully throughout the room, even a fire pit. The main attraction was a long, long polished wooden bar behind which stood shiny chrome espresso machines, tall canisters always filled with fresh hot coffee, and hundreds of bottles and containers of ingredients used to make whatever kind of coffee you desired. And yes, there were bottles of alcohol, but only after eight pm. The atmosphere was cozy, warm, and smelled of rich roast. A song flowed at a low volume from the speakers, a rather catchy tune: 

_Because the music that they constantly play_

_It says nothing to me about my life_

The lyrics felt strangely fitting, so Keith thought. “Hunk!” he called out. “You got something fresh?” Poor guy would take anything warm at this point. The café was mostly empty this time of day, far too late for breakfast, and lunch rush wouldn’t arrive for about another two hours.

“Hey, Keith! You’re in luck, already got a pot of midnight dark made just for you,” came the pleasant reply. Hunk was a giant of a youth of only twenty, about a year younger than Keith, and his dark brown arms always showing off his Samoan tattoos were as massive and powerful as his belly was round and soft. He’d been working as the head barista here since high school. He didn’t own BLB; actually, nobody really knew who the owners were, not even Hunk himself. But he ran the place like it was his own. From the money to managing employees to making up his own recipes every month for customers to enjoy, he did it all.

Keith wondered if Hunk actually lived here. The guy was _always_ here. Keith didn’t blame him if that was the case; he would love to live here if given the opportunity. BLB had everything; a couple of flatscreens with cable, free wifi, tons of sofas and blankets, reliable central heating, and, none the least of which, all the coffee he could ever want.

He tossed his backpack onto a nearby recliner while he climbed onto the barstool, and immediately warmed his fingers by wrapping them around the cup of fresh midnight dark Hunk served him. “Added some barista chips, too,” Hunk said with a wink.

“Does anyone ever tell you that you are the best?”

The larger man laughed, as pleasant and warm as the heat pouring from the nearby vent. 

Keith took a small sip of his coffee. Hot and smooth with a hint of chocolate sweetness, like drinking black velvet.

“No class this morning?” Hunk asked as he wiped down the espresso machine.

“I don’t feel like going today.”

“Oh, man, something’s definitely up.” Hunk flicked the washcloth into the sink, and leaned on his elbows at the bar. “Okay, spill. What’s going on?”

Before Keith could answer, the door to the back opened, and a small tower of boxes with impossibly long legs staggered behind the counter. “Here ya go, Hunk,” the boxes grunted, and then dropped down to the floor to reveal a handsome blue-eyed Cuban youth the same age as Hunk and wearing the same BLB apron. “Enough napkins and paper towels to last us until Christmas.”

Keith groaned inwardly. It wasn’t that Lance was an unlikable guy, but Keith wasn’t sure he was in the mood to deal with his outrageous antics so early in the day. Or _ever_ , really, he was never in the mood. Especially in regards to this... _situation_ he was suddenly in. He was never going to hear the end of it.

Granted, it wasn’t like Lance wasn’t ever going to find out eventually, sharing the same group of friends and all.

“Awesome,” Hunk replied, but just as Keith was sure he was distracted from their earlier conversation, the head barista’s face broke into a wide, devious grin. “Hey, Lance, get this, Keith was actually really nice to me just now, practically made me blush and everything.”

“I-I’m _always_ nice to you!” Keith protested hotly, voice cracking at the edges.

“Yeah, yeah, but this time, you were like practically crying when I gave you coffee.”

“Because it’s frickin’ Antarctica out there!”

Hunk waved him away. “Oh, it’s only thirty-six out there, that’s four whole degrees above freezing so it’s fine. Point is, the only time you are this enthusiastically complementing is when you are hyped up about something but you’re not sure how to approach the subject. Dude, I’ve known you for like five years now. You can’t fool me.”

Lance mimicked Hunk as he also leaned over the counter, eyes glimmering, a wicked smile spreading across his lips. Keith had to lean way back in his chair to keep the other man’s pointy nose out of his personal space.

“You got it, didn’t you?” Lance’s grin showed teeth now, the ocean blue of his eyes storming with excitement. “You got it?”

“Got what?” Hunk asked, now also suddenly in Keith’s personal space.

Looked like he had no choice now. With a sigh, Keith reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a palm-sized disc, white casing wrapped around shiny black screen, like a round smartphone.

Hunk immediately snatched it out of Keith’s hand. “What, is this like a clap-on light or something?”

“Dude, you can’t just grab somebody’s Coach!” Lance exclaimed, attempting to reach around Hunk’s broad shoulders to do very much that.

“A _what?”_

“It’s my Coach,” Keith explained. “It like... I dunno, coaches me and stuff, I guess.”

Hunk blinked at him, russet eyes confused. Then they narrowed as the realization hit him. “Wait, is this for that Match program? I think I remember Lance being unable to shut up about it last year or something.”

Keith reached up and managed to snatch his Coach back. “Yeah. Lance has been bugging me for the past three months to get one. I guess you could say I gave in so he would finally shut up about it.”

“Yeah, I can understand that,” Hunk said with a sage nod, rubbing his chin.

“Hey!” Lance yelped.

“I love you, bro, but you know it’s true.”

“I just got it this morning,” Keith continued, ignoring their banter. He shifted the device back and forth between his hands. It was so light. Like if he accidentally dropped it, it would easily shatter into thousands of little pieces. “I’m not exactly sure what to do with it now.”

Lance shrugged. “You mostly just wait until Coach tells you that you got a match.”

“Wait, wait,” Hunk interjected, “he can’t just scroll through and pick out a few people that interest him? Y’know, like they used to do about a couple hundred years or so ago when humans first discovered the Internet.”

“The system picks for him, Hunk, that’s the entire point.”

“Huh. Seems a bit pointless? Don’t you at least get to, like, pick out your type, hair color, favorite food, that kind of thing?”

Keith shrugged as he placed the Coach on the counter. “When I signed up, all I got to pick was gender preference, age range, and species. The rest of the application process was mostly just about me and my background.”

Hunk raised an eyebrow. “Species?”

“Not everyone wants to fuck aliens,” Lance muttered, then grinned. “At least only boring people don’t.”

Keith rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes, Lance, I told them I had no preference. For any of it. Gender, species, age — ”

“No age preference?” Hunk‘s mouth dropped open, aghast.

“I mean, everyone who signed up is obviously over eighteen.”

“Yeah, but what if you get hooked up with like a greasy middle-aged guy who’s like four times divorced and lives in the basement of the house he pays for?”

Lance blinked. “Why would he live in his basement if he — “

“Shut up, _Lance,”_ Keith snapped, “and I don’t know, I was nervous when I was signing up and so I didn’t want to be there any longer than I had to be so I just... put “no preference” on all the questions!”

Lance’s head fell on the counter. “Keeeeeeeiiiith,” he moaned into the polished wood.

“You didn’t tell me the application process was so involved! I was there for _hours!_ I was tired and hungry and I just wanted to go home!”

“Duh, because not _everyone_ can just sign up for the Match program. Not just anyone can date _whoever they want_ , you know that. That’s why the Galra provide all our basic needs if we get accepted into the program. We’re the only hope for the species’ continuation.”

Hunk rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” Keith continued as if Lance never said anything, “then they sent me this Coach thing in the mail this morning, and now I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Did you turn it on?”

Keith closed his eyes briefly to keep from leaping over the counter to drown Lance in the container of frappe powder. This was why he wanted to talk to Hunk, _and only Hunk_ , about this. Hunk would ask a lot of nosey and unnecessary questions, too, but at least he wouldn’t be so **grating** about it.

“Yes, Lance,” he said through gritted teeth. “It greeted me by name in this very sweet voice, had me set up my passwords, and asked if I had any questions. I told it I didn’t, so it shut off, and I haven’t heard from it since.”

“But you do have questions!” Lance pointed out.

“I don’t want to ask a talking digital worry stone, I want to ask _real people_ about this!”

“Okay, okay, drink some more coffee, buddy.” Hunk opened Keith’s cup and poured more steaming midnight dark inside and added a few more chocolate chips for good measure. “Hey, you should eat something, too. All that caffeine and no food will give ya the shakes. I got bagels, muffins, waffles — “

“Bagel. With onion cream cheese.”

“You got it, bud.”

“Hey, Hunk, I’ll take a bagel, too.”

“Make your own, Lance. And actually pay for it while you’re at it!” 

”Just put it on my tab.”

_“This ain’t a bar!”_

As Hunk turned away, humming along to the music above while making Keith his bagel, the disc’s black screen suddenly lit up in bright, bright blue, and a pleasant almost peppy female automated voice announced, _“You have a Match.”_

All three young men stared at the disc.

Lance, naturally, was the first to break the stunned silence. “Your Coach has a British accent?”

“Is... is it not supposed to?” Keith asked.

“Mine doesn’t. I don’t think.”

And that’s when it hit them.

“You got a Match! _You got a Match!”_ Lance cried, jumping up and down.

“I got a Match!” Keith exclaimed, hands flying up to his hair, raking his fingers through the strands. “Wait, but _that’s so fast!_ Is it supposed to happen so fast!?”

This time Lance did launch himself over the counter to hug Keith. It was awkward, and probably painful for him, but the excitable noodle didn’t seem to care. “Congratulations, buddy! You’re in a relationship now!”

Hunk blinked, and nearly dropped the bagel he had just taken out of the toaster. “Just like that? You haven’t even met anyone!”

Keith’s Coach blinked blue again. _“You will meet your Match at The Hub in booth number forty-three at precisely 19:30 tonight,”_ the pleasant British lady in the disc told him. _“Please be prompt as this will begin the countdown toward your expiration date.”_

“Expiration date?” Keith asked.

Coach immediately replied, _“As per the New Member’s Orientation briefing you attended yesterday, you are required to maintain your relationship with your Match until and no later than your predetermined expiration date.”_

“Isn’t that kind of... pointless then?”

_“Everything happens for a reason. This will allow the system to acquire the necessary data to locate your Ultimate Match and prepare you for your Pairing Day when you will be permitted to marry your Match and, if so desired, have your breeding inhibitor removed to allow for procreation.”_

“Yeah, Keith, weren’t you paying attention?” Lance teased, arms still wrapped around his neck, slowly choking him.

“I kinda slept through most of it, that Kolivan guy was really, _really_ boring,” Keith admitted, then pried out of Lance’s grasp. “Also, get off me!”

Coach spoke up, _“If you need to review how the system works, you may access the guide from the Home Menu. You may also ask your query directly to your Coach at any time.”_

“Uhhh, thanks Coach.”

 _“You’re welcome, Keith.”_ And its screen blinked back to black.

“Okay so,” Hunk began with a shiver, “that’s kinda unnerving. Like don’t get me wrong, technology is great and everything, and it can really help better everyone’s lives, but like relying on computers to do your dating for you?”

“It’s been like this for the past two hundred years, and we’re still doing fine,” Lance pointed out. “It was like this for our parents and their parents and so on.”

“Just seems, I dunno, wrong? Like how did we do it before the Galra? There were still tons of humans here, right?”

“Yeah, and we nearly killed each other into extinction,” Keith pointed out.

“Helloooo, the Third War?” Lance added. “The huge world war that almost destroyed our entire planet? The Galra are here to keep something like that from ever happening again. And one way to do it is to make sure our population doesn’t explode out of control again.”

Hunk scratched the back of his head. “I dunno, man, maybe I’m just a romantic but I think true love can only be found by good ol’ fashion human intuition, y’know? I just feel like, y’know, that relationships are more than just statistical possibilities based on degree of commonalities.”

Lance and Keith just stared at him, and Hunk sighed in exasperation.

“Look, if it’s meant to be — “

The bell over the door interrupted Hunk with a sharp ring as two young women rushed into the café. “It’s so cold out there!” the one with a pair of blond pigtails exclaimed as she slammed the door behind her to keep the chill from following them inside. “Why is it so cold out there!? Are we not in the desert, a sandy place on Earth that must always be sunshine and warmth?”

“That would be more along the equator, Romelle,” Hunk replied. “And we aren’t close enough to it. Also, it’s January. Hey, Allura!”

“Greetings,” the girl named Allura said. Lance leaned over the counter, making loud kissing noises at her. She shook her head with a smile before planting a soft kiss on his lips. “Hello, love. I hope you’re not giving Hunk too much trouble this morning.”

“Always,” Lance replied, shooting Hunk a wink that Hunk just rolled his eyes at.

“I should expect no less. Good morning, Keith,” she added as she plopped down on the stool next to Keith.

“‘Sup, Allura?”

“Just settled the new Puigian immigrants in their temporary quarters until permanent arrangements can be made,” she explained. “I will actually have a free evening tonight.” She pulled back her hood, revealing waves of silver hair that pointed ears. Pink marks curved beneath her eyes over dark brown cheeks dusted with a slight pink shimmer. She was an Altean, an ancient race of diplomats and intergalactic explorers that had been one of the most advanced civilizations in the universe long before human beings crawled out of the swamp.

The Alteans were also the first to be subjugated by the Galra. Around ten thousand years ago, according to Allura. Ever since then, the Alteans worked as the Galra liaisons and were usually the first ones on the ground after a new planet was conquered, preparing the society to integrate Galran rule into their lives. Selected Alteans assigned to the planet lived among the natives as one of their own, sometimes shapeshifting their bodies to look more like the local populace. They were also able to participate in the Match program, encouraged to build relationships with other races in every way possible. And that was how Allura became Matched with Lance.

“What’s got you three all excited this morning?” Romelle asked when she stepped behind the counter and slid out of her coat. She wore a barista uniform, just like Hunk and Lance, with the BLB logo embroidered in white over her deep black apron. She was Altean, too, with green markings and pale pointed ears.

“Keith signed up for the Match program! He just got his first Match!” Lance announced in rapid fire excitement before a blushing Keith could say anything.

Romelle gasped loudly, and Allura’s eyes lit up with excitement that mirrored her boyfriend’s. She grasped Keith’s hands. “Congratulations, Keith! That’s such wonderful news!”

 _“Oorah!”_ Romelle cried with a pump of her fist in the air.

Allura squeezed Keith’s hands tighter, and truth be told, it was kind of starting to hurt now. The thing about Alteans was that they had the physical strength of a hundred strong adult humans, and they also had a rather alarming tendency to forget that.

“Ah, I remember my first Match,” Allura said with a dreamy sigh. “Such an exciting time! I was so nervous, and my heart was beating so fast! I thought I would be waiting there at our booth in The Hub forever. But then my Match showed up, so handsome and sweet — “

“O-okay, Allura,” Keith wheezed as he somehow managed to squeeze his hands from her grasp before she broke his fingers.

“Yeeeeah, I am very handsome and sweet,” Lance gushed.

Allura snorted, and she shot back dryly, “I wasn’t talking about _you_ , Lance.” Only her accent caused her to pronounce his name like _“Lonce”_ as if she were royalty, and if not for the Match program, she wouldn’t have given a commoner like him the time of day.

Lance pouted. “That hurts, babe.”

She grinned at him playfully, then reached over the counter to pat his cheek. “You’re precious,” she said.

“Ugh,” Keith groaned, rubbing the blood back to his hands, “I hope I’m not this sappy with my Match.”

Lance eyed him up and down, and then remarked in pure disgust, “You won’t be with _that_ getup.”

“What?” Keith blinked, and stared down at his clothes, all black except for his red scarf, but there were no stains or stray threads or holes or anything out of place. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“MCR called from three hundred years ago, they want their frontman back,” Lance retorted. He looked at Allura, and Allura looked at him, and then they both looked at Keith with wicked Cheshire Cat grins.

“Shall we, Lance?” Allura asked deviously.

Lance was already pulling off his apron. “Babe, you know I am always ready for this.”

“What are you two — _Aack!”_

Keith yelped when Lance swung over the counter with a sweep of his long legs and yanked Keith out of the stool. “Onwards to the mall!” Lance cried.

“Hey, hey, what the heck!?” Hunk exclaimed. “You can’t just _leave!_ You’re still on the clock, Lance!”

“It’s an extended lunch break!” Lance called back as he and Allura started dragging a helpless Keith toward the door.

“Dude, seriously!? _Lance!”_

But Lance and Allura were already outside, and the last thing Hunk saw of them was Keith’s silent but futile plea for help in his wide indigo eyes before the door slammed shut in his face.

Hunk sighed deeply, and began wiping the counter. Keith never did get to eat his bagel.

“It’ll be alright,” Romelle said with an encouraging smile, patting Hunk’s shoulder. “Pidge will be here shortly, and Ryan is supposed to come by in the evening.”

Hunk sighed again. “It’s not that. Lance doesn’t technically work here, anyway. He just helps out because he gets lonely and bored otherwise with Allura working so much at the Garrison.”

“Oh?” Romelle’s eyes were a pretty violet with pink pupils, and they stared at Hunk with worry. “Then what’s wrong? You can tell me. We’re the only ones here now.”

He stared at her a moment before giving her a smile and patting her head. “You’re so sweet, Romelle. But it’s no big deal. Just that Match program gives me the willies, y’know? I don’t like it, and I never had.”

“Ah, yes. I am aware,” she replied.

“Come on, let’s go finish stocking before the lunch rush.”

Romelle nodded enthusiastically, and followed Hunk to the back of the café with a light skip in her step.

**-2-**

The Galaxy Garrison was the epicenter of Earth’s intergalactic exploration and relationship with the rest of the universe, built long before the Galra showed up on the bones of the United States Air Force after the entire military structure was decimated during the Third War. The Garrison still functioned as a military installation as it was always meant to, still retained old Air Force-specific customs and courtesies, even if its primary mission was now exploring and expanding beyond the stars.

And the Galra, surprisingly, allowed such an operation to continue to exist. Granted, the Galra controlled the Garrison just like they controlled everything else, with strict protocols in place down to the letter. Typical bureaucracy, really. Earthlings were permitted to continue training, running missions, and develop new technology for the benefit of mankind and their alien allies.

The Garrison’s latest mission had been at Pluto’s moon of Kerberos to collect samples and learn more about their own solar system. After a year in space, the crew had just returned to Earth about a month ago.

And after a grueling year in space and a month of waiting, Nadia Rizavi finally got it.

_“You have a Match.”_

Nadia stared down at the blue screen of her Coach, those very words glowing back at her. She slowly lowered the towel from her damp black hair, water dripping down her shocked brown face, unable to believe it. Before she stepped into the shower twenty minutes ago, she had been convinced the system had pretty much forgotten her after spending a year in space not being an active participant in the program.

She couldn’t even remember her last Match. Probably someone boring.

“Coach!” she cried, snatching her device from the dresser and holding it like a precious bauble. “You’re back! Finally! I’ve missed you so much!”

 _“The system has missed you, too, Nadia, and apologizes for the inconvenience of your long wait,”_ the feminine voice replied in that most pleasant British accent. _“Because your hiatus from the program has lasted for a substantial length of time, it was critical to recalibrate your data.”_

“That’s okay! That’s okay!”

It might seem a little weird talking to a computer disc like it was an old friend, reassuring it like it had actual feelings, but honestly, her Coach really felt like a friend by this point. Coach had been with Nadia for three whole years, not counting the time she had been on Kerberos mission as a fighter pilot for the IGF-Atlas crew. Nadia had been a part of the Match program since she became eligible at eighteen. Partially because of her parents’ insistence that she get hitched to her Ultimate Match as soon as possible. And yet, mostly because this idea of systematic blind dating was actually incredibly exciting.

“What’s my Match like? Are they cute? Fun?” Nadia asked as she slipped on her Garrison uniform. Test flights were over for the day, so she took her lunch break to change out of her sweaty skin-tight flightsuit.

_“I cannot reveal or verify the identity of your Match until an introduction is made. You will be meeting at booth number seventeen at The Hub tonight at precisely 1900 hours.”_

“You guys sure are strict about this blind date thing,” Nadia remarked. “Not even a little hint, huh?”

_“The system finds that first impressions are critical in collecting accurate data of your social skills. By you not knowing what to expect, the data remains pure and unbiased.”_

Nadia vibrated with excitement. Not knowing what to expect was the best kind of feeling, and the system never failed to deliver. She hoped she was Matched with someone really cute, maybe even a _girl_. It had been a while since she had been matched with a pretty girl.

A thought occurred to her as she pulled her ponytail into place high on her head. “Coach,” she began, “what was my previous Match like?”

Coach was silent for a moment. _“Query too broad,”_ it finally replied. _“You have been Matched a total of thirty-six relationships since you joined three years ago.”_

Nadia cringed. “Heh. Sounds kinda slutty when you say it like that.” Wow, thirty-six? Really? Then again, it did make sense, she supposed. None of her relationships lasted more than a few weeks, the system bouncing her around from person to person like a hot potato. Casual flings, nothing substantial. Which was fine. She was only in her early twenties, after all, and there was no need for her to settle down just yet. She enjoyed having so much fun, feeling like she was living her youth to the fullest.

But having something a bit more, a bit longer, wouldn’t be such a bad thing, either.

“Sorry, what I meant was the Match I had before I left for Kerberos. What were they like?”

 _“I’m afraid I cannot answer that,”_ Coach immediately replied this time. _“That data has been_ erased.”

Nadia stared.

Erased?

“Wait, what? What does that mean? Isn’t there like a history or something I can scroll through?”

_“To clarify, when your data was recalibrated into the system, all previous collected data was subsequently overwritten including those of your previous Matches.”_

“So I’m starting over, basically?”

_“That is correct.”_

“That... seems like a drastic flaw.”

_“On the contrary, a person can change much during the course of a year. The update of fresh data prevents the system from confusing your Matches with outdated data, and is thus able to find your Ultimate Match quicker and more accurately. There are no flaws within the system. Everything happens for a reason.”_

Well, that dampened her excitement just a bit. Nadia certainly didn’t like the idea of going through another thirty-six relationships to find something worth hanging onto. But ever the optimist, she wasn’t going to let this news disappoint her for long. Starting over wasn’t always a bad thing. Today, she was officially back in the system; tonight, she had a new Match, which would hopefully be the start of a proper romance this time, something that’ll last for at least a little while, longer than a mere few weeks.

So by the time she returned to the Garrison, she was practically bouncing with each step she took, humming romantic songs to herself.

“Someone’s chipper,” Ryan Kinkade remarked from his desk as Nadia practically waltzed into the MFE office. “Lunch that good?”

Ina Leifsdottir, sitting at the desk across from Nadia’s, regarded her a moment with observant blue eyes. Nothing went past her keen gaze. “Flushed cheeks. Inability to stop smiling. Light on her feet.” She nodded. “Yup. She has finally received a new Match from that program she participates in.”

“Ah. That dating program.”

“You two should totally sign up for it, you’d make great Matches!” Nadia said as she sat down at her own desk, which was covered in mountains of paperwork.

“Nah,” Kinkade immediately countered, shaking his head. “I’m way too busy with the Garrison and helping out at the BLB.”

Nadia looked at Leifsdottir, who also shook her head and replied, “I am perfectly content with the relationships I have already developed with the people currently in my life. I have no interest in juggling romantic relationships with complete strangers.”

“You always sound so mature, Ina,” Nadia sighed.

“Maybe you should learn from her example,” another voice spoke up from behind the computer sitting on the desk at the front of the room.

Nadia rolled her eyes. Leave it to James Griffin, their squad leader, to suck the fun out of _everything._ Who hurt him that he refused to remove the stick out of his ass and have a good time for once?

It was a shame that he was actually kind of handsome, very attractive with his cinnamon brown hair and olive-tinged skin. And his eyes were such a deep, dark gray they were practically purple. And his voice, _agh_ , a rich and velvet smooth baritone that she could listen to all day.

Too bad he wasn’t her type like _at all_. What a waste.

“That’s mean, boss,” she told him, lips pursed in a cute pout.

Griffin just rolled his eyes at her, not falling for it. “I have to be mean, it’s my job.” And the corner of his mouth twitched in a slight smirk. “That way you guys will actually get some work done around here.”

Ryan grunted.

“Look, I’m trying to find the mission reports for Kerberos,” Nadia shot back. “I can’t seem to access the folder, I keep telling you that!”

“And I keep telling you that you can’t access the folder _because I have already taken care of it,”_ Griffin said. “You just focus on clearing those EPRs for your maintenance troops that are due at the end of the month. And that your Deployment Managers are on top of the Jupiter mission heading out in a few weeks. Don’t worry about the Kerberos reports.”

But... but Nadia should be the one filling out those Kerberos reports. _She_ was the one who went on the mission, after all.

She didn’t say so out loud. It was the same argument the two of them had been having for the past month ever since she came back. She was sure Ina and Ryan were tired of listening to it. And it wasn’t like she had a problem with Griffin’s other assignments.

It may not sound like it, but she and Griffin usually got along very well. But lately, ever since she returned from Kerberos, he took over her mission reports without asking her, and it had been downhill between the two of them ever since.

“He treats me like a child,” Nadia complained to Ina after dragging her into the bathroom for Girl Talk about a half-hour later.

“The Kerberos mission is exceptionally important,” Ina pointed out. “To him, it is imperative that the reports are perfect, and how better than to do it himself. That is his way.”

“That makes it sound like he doesn’t trust me, which is worse.”

Nadia had worked so hard to prove herself at the Garrison as a pilot, as an officer, as someone who was absolutely on Griffin’s level. “Is he threatened by me? Because I went on the Kerberos mission instead of him?”

“I don’t think it’s like that,” Ina immediately said. “He was incredibly proud that you had been selected.”

“Then why is he being such a... such a _jerk_ about this?”

Ina shrugged. “You would have to ask him. But perhaps something bothers him that has nothing to do with the Kerberos mission. Perhaps he is projecting.”

“You think? _Uuuuuugh._ I so don’t want to talk to him right now, though, not today of all days.”

“Because of your new Match?”

“Yup!” And just like that, Nadia was chipper all over again thinking of her new Match she was going to meet in a matter of hours. Someone fun. Someone who would make her feel good. Someone who wasn’t stupid James Griffin. “You’re gonna help me pick out my outfit tonight, right?”

Ina considered, tapping her chin. “Well, I was thinking of going with Ryan to the café tonight, but if you require female bonding before your latest romantic endeavor, then I have no objection.”

Nadia squealed, grabbing Ina’s hands. “You’re the best, Ina! You know that?”

There was a look in Ina’s eyes then. A flicker of something that seemed akin to sadness. Perhaps even _pity._

But it was gone before Nadia even noticed, and Ina smiled brightly. “Heh. Anything for you, dear Nadia.”

**-3-**

Something was smelling _good_ that evening. Veronica Moreno stretched on the couch she had occupied for her afternoon nap, feeling the sleep pull away from her like a slick sheet. The sound of sizzling oil had stirred her awake, and the smell of cooking meat and vegetables made her stomach growl. Mmmmm, stir-fry. This must mean Allura was going to actually be home tonight.

Veronica was a communications officer at the Galaxy Garrison, and while she had her own house and stuff, she often crashed at her younger brother’s apartment, anyway. Allura had rarely been home lately, with new alien immigrants coming in, and Lance got lonely far too easily.

“You know you’re giving me some of that, right?” Veronica said as she padded into the kitchen for a glass of water.

Lance glanced at her from the stove, looking adorable in a frilly blue apron. “Don’t you have food at your place?”

“You know I can’t cook,” Veronica pointed out after taking a long sip of water.

He snorted. “Seriously, how are you even alive?”

“Because you do all my cooking for me.”

“It’s literally not that hard.”

“It’s _boring_ cooking for just me!” Veronica protested. “I live alone in that house.”

“Then get a cat.”

“How would that solve anything, I still would only be cooking for me.”

“Then maybe you should join the Match program,” Lance offered.

Like hell. She snorted. “Uh, no way. There is no way I’m going to bounce around from idiot to idiot looking for the right person I don’t even get to choose. Sounds awful.”

“Aw. It brought me and Allura together.”

She smiled affectionately. “You two are the exception, I’m sure of it.” Then she stole a forkful of stir-fry from the pan.

Lance frowned, but not because of her thieving fingers. “She’s not my Ultimate Match, though. Our relationship is gonna end at some point.”

“And this is exactly why,” Veronica began through a mouthful of stolen stir-fry, “I think this program is bullshit. If you two want to be together, _you should just be together_ , end of. None of this Matching nonsense. I think it just makes things even more complicated. And unnecessarily dramatic.”

“Well, my Coach says there’s a reason for everything,” he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes. “It always says _that._ Suspicious if you ask me.”

“Now you’re starting to sound like Hunk.”

“Hunk is a sensible guy.”

Her hand snaked out for a third helping of stir-fry before Lance could stop her. “Get out of here, woman!” he squawked, trying to hit her hand with the plastic spoon. “And how are you even eating that straight out of the pan!?”

She grinned. “The pain is so worth it.”

As she turned away, blowing on the stir-fry to cool it off, her gaze happened upon the pile of mail on the table. Curious, she sifted through the bills and junk and then found a plain white envelope with just her name scrawled across the face in pretty cursive. Her heart raced as she lifted it from the pile.

“Yeah, that came in for you today,” Lance explained, noticing what had his sister’s undivided attention. “What is that, exactly? A card? Your birthday isn’t for another five months.”

“Oh, it’s _not_ for my birthday,” Veronica laughed, opening the envelope as she headed for the guest room she made her second home whenever she stayed over, often for weeks at a time.

“Then what is it?”

She put her finger to her lips and winked at him. “It’s a secret.”

Lance gasped, planting his hands on his hips. “There are no secrets in this household, young lady! Especially not from your _brother!”_

“Let’s just say, you and Allura will now definitely have the entire house to yourself tonight. I’m heading out. Save some of that delicious stir-fry of yours for me, will you?”

He tilted his head at her in confusion, before nodding. “Um. Okay? Yeah, sure.”

He never learned the contents of that mysterious envelope.

But he would. One day. And not because Veronica wanted him to.

Later, Veronica left for the night just as mysteriously as the arrival of that strange envelope, not saying where she was going or who she was meeting. She didn’t even bring her phone. Which worried Lance all the more. It wasn’t like Veronica to be so secretive. In fact, in a huge family like theirs, with five siblings living under one roof and countless cousins coming over to visit, secrets were _impossible_ to keep. Everything came out one way or another. Lance didn’t have his own room until the Match program gave him his own apartment. That his siblings, specifically Veronica, still managed to end up staying over.

Veronica had a whole house to herself! Why couldn’t they all go over _there_ sometimes?

But at least tonight, he and Allura would be alone. And he shouldn’t have to be too worried about Veronica, either. She was almost thirty, a big girl who could take care of herself, and a Garrison officer to boot, well trained in self-defense. And with the Galra occupation came security Earth cities had not experienced in many centuries. Crime was low, if not almost completely eradicated. She would be fine. Thanks to the Galra.

And it was thanks to the Galra that Lance was experiencing the best relationship of his life. He went all out decorating the little dining room, laying out the fancy white tablecloth and lighting bright red candles for an extra dash of romance, all courtesy of his mother. He lit an incense stick, the curling smoke weaving a fragrance of lavender through the air.

Allura stepped in just as he was setting out the dinner plates.

“Lance!” she cried in delighted surprise at the romantic scene before her. “You didn’t have to do this!”

He stepped forward to slide his hands over her waist and place a tender kiss on her lips. “You’re actually home tonight,” he said. “I wanted to make it special.” 

“I’m so sorry I had to cut our mall date with Keith so short,” she groaned. “It seemed the Puigians were not as comfortably settled as I had believed. How did the rest of the shopping go?”

“Well, it was like pulling teeth, but I finally convinced him that there’s more to fashion than just tight pants and jackets and the color black. He’ll knock his Match dead in it, I think.”

Allura blinked. “Oh, I should hope not. Isn’t unnecessary murder illegal on this planet?”

Lance laughed. “ _All_ murder is illegal, Allura. It’s an expression. It means that his Match will be so impressed with his look that they won’t be able to react.” He thought for a moment. “I think. Actually, I have no idea why that saying is so positive, but it is, I promise.”

“Ah. Then, yes, I’m sure Keith will be fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, enough about _him.”_

With her smiling so sweetly at him like that, Lance couldn’t help but pull her back to him to kiss her deeply. One hand lifted to cup her face as his lips sought out her taste, tongue trailing over her bottom lip. “I almost want this for dinner instead,” he muttered thickly when they parted, hands caressing her ass.

“Save it for dessert,” she whispered back. “I am actually very hungry, and cannot ignore the delightful smell of your stir-fry for much longer.”

“It’s so hot that you enjoy my cooking,” he sighed.

She gave him another quick peck on his lips. “Let me change out of this cursed uniform into something more comfortable.”

Lance had just finished setting the table when Allura came back out. Her hair was down in curls upon silver curls cascading beyond her waist. She wore jeans and t-shirt, very casual for such a romantic dinner, but he didn’t mind one bit. She was beautiful no matter what she wore.

He pulled out her chair for her, and they both sat down to dinner of stir-fry and wine, romantic tunes crooning from his Bluetooth speakers. He had carefully created a playlist on his phone specifically for this night. He ate quietly as he listened to her talk about her day, chiming in every now and again with supportive comments. The candlelight bathed in her a golden glow that took his breath away.

How could he have been so lucky?

And.

How long would this luck last, exactly?

“It seems to me that maybe the Puigians are just having difficulty adapting to Earth’s customs so suddenly,” Lance said after Allura expressed feeling at a loss with Earth’s newest residents. “And this is just _our_ corner of the world. There are literally hundreds of different languages and cultures to adapt to, sometimes even we humans have problems. It’s why we had wars, like the Third War. And the Puigians are here because their planet is about to explode, right? They just lost their home, it’s gonna take a while for them to process it all and adjust.”

“You’re right,” Allura said. “I deal with so many different races every day, it sometimes makes it difficult for me to see through their eyes. I should have more patience with them.” She smiled, and gestured at him with her wine glass. “You’re good at this, Lance. You should consider becoming part of the Intergalactic Relations Squadron. We could use more humans on our team.”

“Ah, maybe, I dunno,” Lance said with a shrug. He played with his food now instead of eating, dark thoughts invading his mind. “Ever since I was rejected from being a fighter pilot, I kinda just gave up on the Garrison entirely. The Match program will keep me afloat until I figure out what else I wanna do with my life.”

“You don’t know yet?”

“Meh, I’m only twenty. Plenty of time to work on it.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Now how about that dessert?”

She giggled, and the two of them left the table to slow dance around the living room to the gentle lyrics of a particularly emotional song.

_This love will take my everything_

_One breath, one touch, will be the end of me_

“I... I don’t remember putting this on the playlist,” Lance admitted, cheeks flushing.

Allura nuzzled his shoulder. “I like it. It’s sweet. Loving.”

They swayed ever lightly from side to side, holding each other delicately. Lance’s hands tightened on her waist. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much, Allura.”

Allura raised her gaze to his, her own cheeks flushed and her marks glowing. The magenta of her pupils had faded to a clear blue. He never tired of how he could literally read the emotions on her face.

“I’ve wanted to tell you that for so long,” he continued, heart seizing in his chest. “I know we don’t know how long this will last, but like, maybe Hunk was right about some things, yeah? Before the Galra, humans had no idea how long their relationships would last, but they did okay. Like they say: tomorrow’s not guaranteed.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she smiled so sweet and loving back at him. “I’m glad you said it. I don’t think you should have to be afraid to tell me exactly how you feel. We don’t know how long this will last, but we can at least pretend it’s forever. You make me so happy. That’s all I can ask for.”

“Allura.”

They kissed. They kissed soft and slow, but as the mood overcame them, their kisses grew passionate, hungry for each other. The room dim with candlelight, already setting the perfect mood, he wasn’t going to bother wasting time carrying her to their bed. It was their apartment, after all. Nothing was off-limits to them.

He laid them both gently on the floor, delighted in the cute pink lingerie Allura had been hiding beneath her casual clothing. A pleasant surprised indeed. The music playing faded to the background as he could only hear the sounds she made while he pleasured her from head to toe, making his princess relax from her long, tiring day of diplomacy and let him do all the work.

Making love directly on the floor had its drawbacks, so he pulled her onto his lap to get a better angle, sinking into her again and again as she dragged her nails down his back. He loved her. He loved her so much. He didn’t even allow himself to give in to his own bliss, not until she was shaking apart in his arms, gasping out his name over and over. Then and only then did he chase his pleasure, bucking up into her until he also came apart.

“At least we didn’t set the table on fire this time,” Allura remarked as they moved to the couch to bask in their afterglow, recalling the last time they tried to make love by candlelight. It had ended just as she said: badly.

“We just keep getting better,” Lance laughed, stroking her hair. A full stomach and a full heart had made him very sleepy, despite how early in the evening it really was. They let themselves doze for about fifteen minutes, but eventually they had to get back up. The dining room and the kitchen needed to be cleaned. Leftovers needed to be put away, with a special tub just for Veronica. Allura helped with the dishes, and it took longer than it should have as they both couldn’t stop tossing soap bubbles at each other.

It was the perfect relationship, it really was.

In a few weeks, they would’ve been together a full year. Like an actual anniversary. Would it happen then? Or any minute now? Or would it not happen until years and years from now? Lance had heard about some couples being Matched together for as long as ten years. But just how common were such cases?

This wasn’t the first time such thoughts had plagued his mind. It hadn’t been hard falling for Allura the moment they introduced themselves for their Match date. But in the beginning of their relationship, it was easy to not be worried about an expiration date that they had both agreed not to look at. Everything was light, casual, just about having fun. And it was exciting, too, not knowing how long they actually had. Did other couples have this same idea?

But that night, the thoughts just wouldn’t leave him alone, nagging, nagging.

Because things weren’t light and casual and just about having fun anymore.

Allura slept curled up at his side, shoulders slowly rising and falling with each breath. She hadn’t slept this deeply in weeks. Lance, on the other hand, was wide awake, tenderly stroking her hair, running his fingers through her curls, taking care that they didn’t snag and wake her.

His eyes drifted from her to the dresser across the room. He could solve this right now. So easily. Would it really be that bad to know?

They did make a deal, though. But she didn’t have to know he broke it, either. It would just be something for him alone to know, something to ease back the anxiety wrapping itself around him tighter with each passing day. And focus more on her. He would actually be doing this for _her_ benefit.

Those excuses didn’t wash, but neither could he just let it go. Slowly, he shifted until he could scoot across the bed away from Allura and not disturb her slumber. Then he padded toward the dresser and opened the top drawer, carefully taking out a small disc.

He hadn’t talked to his Coach in almost a year. He hadn’t needed it this entire time.

Lance crept into the kitchen, heart pounding, trying to push away the inky feeling in the pit of his stomach making him sick with guilt.

The black screen lit up and illuminated the dark kitchen in a soft blue glow. _“Welcome back, Lance,”_ Coach greeted, its feminine voice just as pleasant and British as the rest of them. _“What may I help you with today?”_

He shivered and licked the sweat beading above his upper lip. “I... um... I want to check the expiration date.”

_“Of course, Lance.”_

The screen blinked. Then words appeared, “Tap to Reveal” and a fingerprint symbol. In smaller letters beneath the symbol read the words, “Both parties must tap at the same time.”

Lance sat there for a long time, staring down at the screen. Peace of mind was right there, as far from him as a slight tap of his finger.

“Coach,” he asked, “so like, it says both parties have to do it, right?”

_“That is correct.”_

“So what happens if only one of us looks?”

_“Query not recognized.”_

Lance stared down at his Coach, unable to believe his ears. “Um, uh, sorry? What? What do you mean? Has no one ever asked that?”

_“I believe it is a question that only_ you _can find the answer to.”_

“Why?”

 _“There is a reason,”_ was all it said.

Ugh. Lance hated it when Coach got all cryptic like this. It had been a bit of a problem back when he was dating his previous Matches, short-lived relationships where he had no idea what he was doing and his Coach hadn’t been entirely helpful. Sometimes with disastrous results. He had not always been the best Match back then.

Lance licked his lip again, glancing at the bedroom, expecting Allura to come out at any moment and wonder what he was up to.

She didn’t.

He sighed, disgusted with himself. They made a deal, he and Allura. That they weren’t going to check the expiration date. That they would just let things play out naturally, and not take any moment for granted. They may have only the next ten minutes or the next ten years. Because they didn’t know how long they have together was what allowed their relationship to blossom to something so beautiful. Allura was convinced of that, and so was he.

“You’re right. I’m not gonna do it,” he said out loud. He wasn’t going to ruin this. He wasn’t going to allow his anxiety and misgivings to mess up a good thing he had going, one of the few good things ever since he left the Garrison.

He plopped his Coach back into the dresser and went back to bed.

Everything happened for a reason.

He would never forget that.

None of them would ever forget that. 


	2. Expiration Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheith and Grizavi have their first dates. Shock and surprise and headaches ensue but things are not that hopeless for these two new couples. Not yet, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually meant to have this posted last Tuesday (I like updating my fics on Tuesdays for some reason) but my husband stayed home for a few days after being away back at the States for work, so time was spent with him instead. Which meant we spent most of our time catching up on Steven Universe. Such an excellent, amazing show. That finale tho. 
> 
> Anyway, I haven’t decided yet if my updates will be weekly or bi-weekly. It’ll depend on how chapter three comes along. And the complexity of the plot which, right now, is still fairly simple and still in the process of setting everything up. This was actually going to be part of chapter 1, but at 8k, chapter 1 was already too long to begin with. And this chapter is over 8k too. 
> 
> Also, James is a smoker. I know not everyone is a fan of smoking headcanons, but tbh, I can see him be a smoker. He has that kind of job and only loses his mind twice? He smokes. 
> 
> This chapter is filled with embarrassment and fluffs and giddy things so enjoy!

**-1-**

She got dressed for THIS.

Not just dressed. _Dolled up._ Makeup and everything, which she liked wearing enough but it was hardly practical when most of her free time activities involved a lot of sweat. Her hair had been freed from its usual ponytail, and instead framed her face in cute ringlets courtesy of Ina’s delicate touch with a curling iron (Ina might not care for girlish fashion, but she had a freaky knowledge of hairdressing). A sexy minty green sweater, tight leggings, knee-high leather boots she had hidden in the back of her closet for precisely these occasions that gave her 5’2” height the few extra inches needed to step on hearts. She even swapped out her glasses for a very, very cute pair of purple frames she only ever wore to impress and also because they were against Garrison regs.

All to waste.

No wonder Coach didn’t tell her about her new Match ahead of time. Had she known, Nadia would’ve just thrown on her usual oversized hoodie and yoga pants and plain wired-rimmed glasses she wore for work and left it at that. At least she would be a lot more comfortable while she sat there in booth number seventeen in shocked silence, angry and embarrassed at the same time.

 _Griffin_ sat across from her.

 **Griffin** was her new Match.

And so far nearly two whole solid minutes had passed and neither one of them said anything. In fact, Griffin looked just as shocked and incensed as she did, eyes wide and incredulous.

The waiter brought their food. Garlic chicken pasta for her, stuffed pork chop for him. Neither of them moved to eat.

“Leave the bottle,” Nadia told the waiter after he poured a sweet Pinot Noir in each of their glasses. He nodded, and set the bottle on the table close to her reach. She didn’t drink wine often, but, oh boy, was she going to need it tonight.

“Soooo,” Griffin began once the waiter left them alone, tapping his fingers along the edge of the table. “This is... kinda...”

“Awkward?” Nadia offered.

He frowned. “I was gonna say that this is a surprise. But, sure, awkward works, I guess, if you want to make it weird.”

”Let’s just be honest with ourselves from the get-go, Boss, it’ll be less painful that way.” She took a drink of her wine, probably more than she should have for the first sip before eating anything. The smooth taste of tangy berries and alcohol held a dangerous appeal that already tickled her brain.

So much for a new romance. So much for a new start in finding a relationship with _substance._

The restaurant that Match participants nicknamed “The Hub” was part of a massive compound that could house hundreds if not thousands of newly Matched couples, all meeting each other for the first time. In fact, only newly Matched couples were allowed to eat here. For most people, eating dinner in such a romantic, elite place that sparkled with illusions of wealth and sophistication was probably once in a rare occurrence, but Nadia had _thirty-six_ relationships under her belt. The novelty of a fancy, candlelit, utterly romantic restaurant was absolutely lost on her at this point. She didn’t even pay attention to the music playing overhead, a song she would no doubt recognize immediately if she actually listened. She could be at McDonald’s right now, shoving those addictive fries into her face, and feel much the same if not better because it was _Griffin_ and she never gave a shit with him around.

The only thing that was different this time around was the food they gave her, food she didn’t even have the pleasure of choosing herself. Waiting around for dinner interfered too much with the expiration date.

A date her finger had already hovered over to check before she had sat down. Neither of them could be too fast to check the date. Please, let it be the minimum. Let them drink too much and maybe bang for the hell of it and then never speak of this again.

**1 year.**

She was going to be spending one whole year, a solid three-hundred-and-sixty-five days, eight-thousand-seven-hundred-and-sixty hours with the _one person_ she had absolutely no interest in dating whatsoever. And he was her boss!

Okay, Griffin wasn’t really her boss. He was just her squad leader. Their real boss was Commander Iverson, and honestly, Nadia wasn’t sure if _he_ being here instead wasn’t more preferable.

“Maybe there was a mistake,” Griffin offered, then asked his device, “Hey, Coach, is this a mistake?”

Ouch. Nadia cringed. Sure, she had been wondering the same exact thing, but he didn’t have to be the first to say it out loud!

 _“There is no mistake,”_ Coach replied, a mindless machine completely oblivious to the sour tasting atmosphere. _“The identity of your new Match has been confirmed as Nadia Rizavi. Your relationship will expire in precisely three-hundred-and-sixty-four days, twenty-three hours, and forty minutes from now.”_

“And there’s no chance of backing out?”

Nadia slowly stabbed her house salad with her fork.

_“That is correct. To terminate your relationship before the expiration date is in direct violation of your contract and will result in your permanent banishment from the system.”_

Griffin shrugged at Nadia, who took another deep sip of her wine. “Thanks, Coach. Glad I could count on you.”

_“That is what I’m here for, James.”_

And it was back to awkward silence.

God, that garlic chicken did look good, though. With the wine thrumming along her nerves and making her a big lightheaded, Nadia definitely needed to eat something or this could go in a bad direction. Maybe not the best idea to get drunk on the first night of a year-long relationship. Her fork wrapped up a chunk of noodles and chicken, then she took a bite. Mmm. Delicious. She actually did feel a bit better. Once the first bite went down the hatch, her stomach demanded more.

“Soooo... how was work?” Griffin still hadn’t touched his meal, and his fingers went back to their restless drumming as if they itched to hold something in particular.

She nearly spat out her food, hand hovering over her mouth to hide the spittle of pasta sauce and noodles attempting to escape. “Is that a serious question?”

He looked taken aback. “Um... yeah?”

 _“We work together!_ My desk is literally twenty feet away from yours. I know; I’ve measured it.”

“Just making small talk — “

She nearly threw her fork at him. “You can talk about literally anything else, a billion different subjects, and you choose **work!?** You know _exactly_ how I am at work! _You took my Kerberos mission reports!”_

Was she still mad about that? Oh, she was gonna be mad about that all the way to her grave.

Griffin sighed. “Look, Rizavi, I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have done that — “

_“You think!?”_

“Okay, I shouldn’t have. Definitely shouldn’t have. And I don’t have an excuse. Or an explanation really. I’m sorry.”

Nadia crossed her arms in front of her chest and sat back, gauging his face. Griffin was many things, but dishonest and difficult to read were not those things. He did look apologetic, even ashamed, his lips curved in a hopeful half-smile that she would forgive him.

And she would. Because of course she would.

They were stuck together for a year, after all.

“Okay,” she finally said, leaning forward as she folded her arms over the table, “if you don’t talk about work in my presence during off-duty hours from 1630 until 0600 the next morning, then I won’t bring up the Kerberos reports and maybe possibly forgive you for your transgressions.”

He gave her a real smile then. “Deal.”

“Wait, we gotta make this official.” And Nadia spat on her hand and held it out for him to shake.

Griffin’s smile flopped over into a deep frown. “I’m not touching that.”

“Shake!”

_“No.”_

“It’s not a deal unless you shake.”

“You’re just gonna have to take my word for it.”

She grunted in dissatisfaction, and used one of the courtesy wet wipes to clean the spit off her palm. But now that they had addressed the elephant in the room, the atmosphere had lifted somewhat. Nadia could once again hear the clinking of glass and silverware, happy conversation, and a perky love song that was far different from the one playing before that she had ignored.

If she had heard the one earlier, really paid attention, perhaps things would have gone far differently.

“I still can’t believe you’re part of the Match program,” Nadia said with a shake of her head. “I never would’ve pictured it.”

“You don’t think I’m datable?” Griffin asked, and that was most likely a joke. He started digging into his pork chop, and to be honest, Nadia was tempted to reach over and snag a piece because it looked absolutely delicious.

“Well, Ryan says he’s too busy, and Ina is completely against systematic dating, I just figured you would be in that same camp.” She twirled noodles around and around her fork, and her thoughts along with them. “You’re the MFE-Ares squad leader, Iverson and Shiro are like up your ass all the time with all these different projects and missions, the only time you ever want to do anything fun is with us, your _co-workers_ — “

“I really like hanging out with you guys,” Griffin interjected.

“I’m just saying, when exactly do you have time for your Matches?”

Being a part of the Match program was quite the commitment. It was why the Galra provided housing, basic needs, and a stipend for their participants. Not just as an incentive, but so that you were encouraged to spend as much time with your Match as possible. Work and other such obligations tended to get in the way of such critical bonding time.

“I guess that’s why my relationships were always so short-lived,” Griffin said with a shrug. “Maybe the system got sick of it so it finally matched me with a co-worker. Which, I won’t lie, is kinda weird. Now we’ll be together 24/7 for an entire year.” He grinned at her. “Never apart for one single moment.”

“Creepy. But also, are you suggesting we move in together?”

His grin was quickly replaced with open-mouthed surprise. “I mean — “

“Not gonna lie, I’m actually kinda on board with that. I don’t wanna waste a whole year. I’ve had thirty-six relationships before you, I am starting to get a little bored of the whole thing. Might as well get _something_ out of this.”

He sat back, staring at her like she had just blown his mind. “Thirty-six? Seriously?”

“In my defense, half of those lasted only a few days. Some only a few hours. The system really likes passing me around for some reason. So, yes...” She lifted her wine glass and winked at him. “I’ve had _plenty_ of practice.”

Griffin choked on his food, blushing and everything, and then took a long, long sip of his wine, nearly downing half his glass. She sat back with smug satisfaction.

Rizavi 1, Griffin 0.

She’ll show mercy this round, and not ask him what suddenly got him all up in a tizzy.

Teasing Griffin was always kinda fun, at least.

They left a little while after, no need to wait for the check. Just get up and leave. Personally, Nadia didn’t want to linger in that restaurant any longer than she had to. The automated taxi that took them to their cabin for the night was little more than a golf cart, open on all sides, letting in the sharp January chill that tore through them despite the cart only rolling along at less than ten miles per hour. Leaving Nadia little choice but to sit close to Griffin and take advantage of his body heat.

He let her. Griffin was the type of guy where if you needed something from him, he would accommodate to the best of his ability. It’s part of what made him a very good leader. Sure, he could be extremely blunt and demanding, but whatever you needed, he more than happily provided. Nadia could attest to that. She hadn’t always been the best airman in the beginning, done things not all that becoming for an officer, and he had gone to bat for her so many times.

He was a good guy. Even if he was far from her Type, the last person she would ever date, he was a good guy. If she had to spend a year with someone, at least the system didn’t match her with an _asshole_. Okay, Griffin _could_ be an asshole sometimes, but only when it came to thinks like rules and regulations and ultimately doing what was expected of you to begin with. He suffered no tomfoolery, which made him boring to her, and to certain other people, an _asshole_.

But if _he liked you_ , that was an entirely different story. And Nadia supposed she had gotten away with a lot more than she should have due to that very simple fact. And, as an added bonus, Griffin was warm and smelled good. He wore some kind of gentle smelling cologne that teased her senses with a hint of spice and intriguing freshness without overwhelming her.

Her chest tightened suddenly. A hot tear rolled down her cheek. She pulled down her glasses and rubbed it away.

“You okay?” Griffin asked.

“Yeah, it’s just stupidly cold in here. Making my eyes water.”

“We’ll be there soon.” He had no way of knowing that. Gentle reassurance was just something else he constantly did whenever one of his teammates wasn’t feeling all that positive.

The cabins were small, adorable homey things situated throughout a massive, heavily wooded park that made up the rest of the compound’s property. This was where all Matches spent their first night together. And spending the night was why twelve hours was the minimum an expiration date could have. Just in case new Matches wanted to have a little fun with each other before their time was up if the attraction was there. Nadia was about as tired of them as she was of The Hub, although Griffin being around made things slightly more interesting. All these cabins were the same. Same layout, same bedroom separated from the living room by an opaque glass room divider, and a gas fireplace that was already roaring by the time they walked in. Boring. Uninspiring. How many times had she been taken by some rando on what might as well be the exact same bed in the exact same bedroom over and over?

“Cozy,” Griffin remarked.

“And it looks pretty much the same as every other cabin I’ve been in,” Nadia deadpanned.

“All thirty-six?”

“Ha ha.”

He chuckled and ducked to the side as she gave his shoulder a playful punch. The warmth in the room could have just been coming from the blazing fire, dancing along thick pine blocks, or a return of something familiar.

“I’m gonna use the little girl’s room, powder my nose and stuff,” Nadia said, dropping her coat and purse on the sofa as she headed for the divider, knowing her way around this layout as easily as her own apartment. “Maybe we can order takeout.”

“We just ate!”

“Yeah, but I’m still hungry.”

Her smile faded the moment she shut the door to the bathroom. She fished her Coach from her back pocket, then sat on the toilet, lid still down. “Coach, what the hell?!” she hissed into the device.

Blue illuminated her face. _“Query too broad,”_ Coach replied.

Gee, how many times had Coach been asked _that_ particular question?

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” Nadia spoke through gritted teeth, throat aching as she struggled to keep her voice low. “James Griffin? Really?? He isn’t my Type at all!”

_“On the contrary, Nadia, your match with James Griffin possesses a high degree of commonality within a satisfactory margin.”_

“Which means...?”

_“You both are fighter pilots with outgoing, daring personalities and near-genius level of intellect. Both of you share similar backgrounds having grown up in middle class families with parental expectations of perfection.”_

Nadia was pretty sure her parents had significantly more money than Griffin’s, but she wasn’t about to argue with a talking disc over a technicality that didn’t matter. Besides, she already knew all that. They went to the Garrison together. They worked together. She already knew pretty much all there was to know about him.

_“You both enjoy high adrenaline activities such as running, skydiving, attending amusement parks, and street racing.”_

”Liking the same activities doesn’t mean we’re relationship compatible,” Nadia shot back. After thirty-six relationships, she was well aware by now there was much more to them just _doing things_ together. If that was all it took, then technically she was also dating Ina and Ryan. Coach had no answer for her. Then again, it wasn’t like the computer was responsible for any of this.

Oh, but, Griffin really did have a nice car. A sleek black Centaurus with a 12-litre V8 engine and six speed manual transmission that generated over 800 horsepower. She nearly came when she had felt it purr to life beneath her seat that first time Griffin drove it during his turn to carpool.

And sometimes, yeah, sometimes he did take it for street racing. Unofficially. Him and some of the other Garrison troops who liked fast cars and faster nights would go out into the desert starlit darkness and chase the moon along an abandoned highway. Sometimes Nadia would sit at the edge of a mesa, legs dangling hundreds of feet in the air, her own car that carried her up here much too slow to participate in the race itself. She chugged cheap beer as she watched the line of them roar into the horizon, imagining she was down there racing alongside them, feeling her body rush through space and time.

Her chest tightened. Her head began to throb.

Why had... why had she never actually been there? What had held her back during that time, what held her back from going down there and joining them?

Her head throbbed more, a dull pain that pushed against her temple harder with each passing second. She suddenly didn’t want to talk about any of this anymore.

“Thanks, Coach.”

She flushed the empty toilet for good measure and washed her hands. There was Tylenol in the medicine cabinet alongside a box of condoms, the latter she chose to carefully ignore. “Wow, that pasta went right through me!” she proclaimed as she walked back to the living room. “Haha, might wanna give it a good fifteen minutes for it to clear — “

Griffin wasn’t there.

“Boss?”

His jacket was gone and his shoes were nowhere to be found. Beyond the breakfast bar that separated it from the living room, the kitchen remained dark and empty. She was going to suggest that they make some hot cocoa or something to warm up from the awful cold.

The only other place he could be was outside, and there was no reason for him to go outside unless...

She shrugged her coat back on and opened the door, and there he stood just off to the side on the porch. Smoke, actual smoke, curled from his lips, and he flicked a dot of bright orange into the metal ash receptacle next to him. The Galra were mercilessly against littering.

“Something wrong?” he asked, then took another drag of his cigarette, embers blossoming in the dark.

“Other than you disappearing all of a sudden?”

Slow exhale. The air smoldered. “My bad. I thought you would be in the bathroom for way longer.”

Her mouth dropped open, offended. “I... I am a lady!”

“And a destroyer of sewer systems.”

“Fine.” She pushed her glasses back up her nose, pointedly with her middle finger. “Next time, I won’t use Febreze. And since when did you start smoking again?”

Inhale slow. Exhale slow. Flick into the dark maw of the receptacle next to him. And his fingers returned to his mouth. She couldn’t say she hated the aesthetic of his repetitive movements, the way he blew into the air. She hugged her arms around herself, wishing she had something to warm her up in this frigid night. Cocoa sounded much tastier than cigarettes.

“I never really quit,” he admitted, then smashed the now tiny butt on the edge of the receptacle before pushing it inside with all the other discarded bad habits. “Don’t worry, it’s not something I do often. Just feels nice every once and while.”

“I mean, I don’t care, really. They’re _your_ lungs.”

The pair went back inside, Griffin, ever the gentleman, holding the door open for her. The rest of the evening wasn’t too bad, much better than Nadia initially expected when she had walked into The Hub and saw Griffin sitting there at the very booth where she was supposed to meet her newest Match in a long, long time. He made them hot cocoa and it was incredibly delicious, hers towering with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle. Like the Tylenol and the erm, extra boost of birth control, in the bathroom, the cabin was already stocked with basic items including common ingredients for simple meals such as hot cocoa.

He sat on one sofa and she sat on the other, and together they watched some cop drama on the flatscreen hanging from the wall high above. She barely paid attention to anything happening on the episode and mindlessly scrolled through her social media on her smartphone. Some of her friends had left comments on her profile demanding pictures of her first date with her new Match, but she hadn’t had the heart to take any, much less upload them.

She worked with most of those people at the Garrison. How would they react knowing she was Griffin’s girlfriend now? They would be the hot topic of the military gossip chain for _weeks_.

 _Griffin’s girlfriend._ That was going to take some getting used to. Maybe she should take up smoking, too.

She stole a glance from the corner of her eye, but his gaze remained fixated on the screen as if he was going to be quizzed on the events of the episode later.

Something hung in the air between them. Thick. Electric. It didn’t feel like a good thing. But it didn’t feel bad, either. Nadia knew she had to address it before it could crawl too deep under her skin, but she had no idea how to even describe it. Or why it stood out to her like a splinter, like a strong aftertaste that refused to fade away from her tongue.

She wasn’t aware she had fallen asleep until Griffin gently shook her awake, saying softly, “Hey, let’s get you to bed. Unless you’re more comfortable out here.”

The sofa was soft enough, but it was small. Her legs ached from being curled toward her chest, and her hip didn’t care much for the position, either. She was definitely not getting any younger.

There was only one bed in the bedroom, a king size. All cabins only had the one bed. A lot of trust went into the system that you weren’t matched with someone who made you uncomfortable enough to not want to share a bed with them. As Nadia scrubbed off her makeup and brushed her teeth in sleepy strokes, she wondered if Griffin had noticed the condoms in the medicine cabinet yet.

It wasn’t like Nadia had never considered having sex with Griffin before. He was a very attractive guy, after all. But sex wasn’t allowed outside of the Match program, mucked up the whole strict dating program thing, so she never imagined she would actually ever be in a situation when it would come up. She had no idea Griffin was even part of the program until tonight.

Yeah, she wasn’t sure where to go from here.

Maybe that’s why the air was so weird.

The king size bed seemed so much smaller than she figured a king size bed should be. Her super comfortable cotton pajamas she found in the closet covered her from head to toe, loose and modest, and yet made her feel naked all the same. The sheets pulled back so smoothly with a seductive whisper of fabric.

“Are... are you sleeping in the bed, too?” she asked, forcing the words around her heart in her throat.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” Griffin replied from the bathroom after spitting toothpaste into the sink.

“I don’t mind.”

“Then sure.”

She climbed into bed, on her side facing outward, just like on the sofa only with far more comfort and bodily support. A few minutes later, the light flicked off and the mattress dipped a bit when he climbed onto the other side. She stole a look at him from over her shoulder, but his back was to her. He lay still like he had already gone to sleep.

That made her feel kinda lonely, actually.

Okay, she knew her first night with Griffin wasn’t going to be like a casual buddy-buddy sleepover where they build a blanket fort and watch cheap horror movies, but she thought maybe they could chat for a bit longer. Like... Griffin _smoked!_ Which, she already knew but she thought he quit after graduation. Which he apparently hadn’t! The fighter pilot who strived to be the perfect, shining example of the Galaxy Garrison still lit up a cigarette whenever he was stressed. That was quite a bit to unpack there!

Nope. In classic Griffin fashion, he had his back to her, closing her off from making any personal inquiry. This was going to be a long, long relationship.

But her thoughts and uncertainty were simply no match for the hum of the heater and the comfortable bed that gently hugged her entire body. No match for how much she really, really didn’t want to deal with it, either. They had a year. She was asleep before she realized it.

* * *

 

**-1.5-**

It was the rather startling discovery when James Griffin woke up that morning lying much closer to Nadia than when he had gone to bed. Sunlight poured into the room, indicating it was very late in the morning, even for him, highlighting her hair with the same gold of her eyes. And there was his arm wrapped protectively around her like he would never let her go again. She was so light and delicate; if he hadn’t worked alongside her, he would’ve truly believed she was fragile beneath all that fire and wit.

Just as he had unconsciously wrapped his arm around her, at some point in the night, she had rolled over to face him. Her long black lashes feathered over her cheeks of deep brown, dark full lips partially opened to let deep breaths of sleep escape. Her black hair spilled in all kinds of wild, curling directions over the creamy pillows. He didn’t dare let his gaze linger beyond her face. She hadn’t exactly buttoned up her pajama top all the way, or the buttons had come undone, but it was very, very obvious she was not wearing a bra.

James slowly moved his arm so he wouldn’t wake her and slid just as carefully out of bed. Then he swept on his coat, popped on his shoes, and stepped outside for another smoke, the first time he grabbed a second nicotine fix within only twenty-four hours in a long, long time. Once he gathered himself and crushed the fresh butt against the receptacle, he took out his device.

“Hey, Coach?”

_“How may I help you, James?”_

A computer. A mindless machine. Only doing what it was programmed to do. Its all-too-pleasant accent only emphasized that Coach was oblivious to the situation. Even so, James literally had no one else to ask. And he needed answers.

His grip tightened around the casing.

“Why? Why her?”

_“According to the data, yours and that of Nadia Rizavi, there exists a high degree of probability within a satisfactory — “_

_“No!”_ James raked his hand through his hair, struggling to keep calm. Rizavi could wake up at any moment. He took a deep breath, glass shards rattling in his chest. “You... you know _exactly_ what I’m asking. **Why? Her?”**

A beat of silence. _“Everything happens for a reason.”_

The nonchalant gentleness of such a feminine voice only felt that much nastier, a thick syrupy sweetness that sickened his stomach.

He sighed. Almost threw up. “So you plan on keeping up with this punishment after all?”

 _“On the contrary, the system has seen to pardon you of all your past transgressions. You have been given a second chance. You, James Griffin, will be the shining example of what it means to be a Match participant. Although your data indicates insecurity and resentment of the constant chase of perfection that has been instilled upon you your entire life, the system knows no other candidate that meets the requirements for such an important role. In short,_ you are very good at being perfect. _It will be in your best interest to remain such in order to avoid future setbacks.”_

Setbacks.

His teeth ground together until his gums ached and his jaw shook.

**Setbacks.**

His knuckles were white, he gripped his device so hard. The urge to smash it into pieces against the cement porch thrummed in his ears and hurt his head. Instead, he shoved it back into his pocket and lit up another cigarette with a forceful flick of his thumb and a deep, deep inhale before he lost it. He wasn’t going to lose it. He wasn’t going to give _them_ the satisfaction.

The thick smoke of tobacco leaving his lungs burned his throat and kept him from screaming.

Day One.

* * *

 

**-2-**

While Nadia and James were processing being each other’s Matches, poor Keith wasn’t faring much better. He was almost late for a minute there, second-guessing the outfit Lance had picked out for him at the mall. Too bad Allura had to bail out early to take care of sudden diplomatic duties that called her away. Allura’s presence made being around Lance a lot more bearable.

What was he even wearing, anyway? The skinny jeans he had no problem with but why the suit jacket??? Why the blueish gray and not his signature black? The ponytail?? He understood that his usual fashion made him look like the frontman of an emo band, but now he felt like he was a member of one of those obscure hipster bands with accordions and songs that lasted for ten minutes. Especially with a ponytail. And all the split-ends neatly trimmed off.

Never would Keith underestimate the sheer strength Lance possessed when he really wanted to fix someone’s fashion disasters. How could someone with such thin arms lift him with such ease?

The mani-pedi was very nice, though. Keith was definitely going to get more of those.

He arrived early at The Hub despite everything. Even if these clothes were kind of a lie, he wanted to make a good first impression. He gave a small nod to the Galra bodyguard standing by the door staring him down with piercing violet eyes. Keith was not a believer in fashionably late. Keeping people waiting was always a bad look no matter how you sliced it.

But it looked like his Match had the same idea because there was someone sitting in booth number forty-three playing with their phone. And when Keith came close enough to see their face better in the dim, romantic light...

“Shiro?”

There was no way. But there was no mistaking that large, buff frame, the crock of bangs hanging over his forehead even if they were white now and not black like the rest of his hair. He glanced up as if feeling Keith’s gaze on him, and his black eyes widened with surprise.

“K-Keith!”

Shiro immediately jumped to his feet which knocked his fork to the floor. On instinct, Keith bent to pick it up, but so had Shiro. Their hands brushed over the fork at the same time, and in their surprise, they both tried to stand up quickly only to knock their heads together.

“Ow!” Keith groaned, voice shaking with a laugh, holding the sensitive spot just at the curve of his scalp where a nice bump was already starting to form.

Shiro rubbed the spot just above his eye, cheeks flushed with boyish embarrassment and behaving nothing like the confident Captain of the IGF-Atlas. “I am so, so sorry!” He gave Keith a sheepish smile.

“Nah, man, it’s fine,” Keith replied with a shrug, then burst into a smile of his own as they clasped hands and Shiro pulled him into a hug. “But I can’t believe it, it’s been so long! How have you been?”

Shiro! _Shiro_ was his Match!?

“You look so different!” Keith continued as they stepped out of the embrace. “I-I mean in a good way, of course. You’re like bigger. You’ve been working out in space? Can you even do that? And your hair — it’s turning white! Age finally coming in, old timer?”

“And you’ve actually grown up a bit, squirt,” Shiro shot back. “I think you might have actually grown an inch.”

“Pfffft. Okay. When did you guys get back?”

“About a month ago,” Shiro replied, then added as they slid back into their seats, “Sorry, I haven’t contacted you sooner. These Kerberos reports have been really keeping me busy. You know the Garrison; they expect nothing less than perfection.”

Of course. Keith knew that better than anyone.

“It was a huge hush-hush operation, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, pretty much. With only few of us able to actually make these reports, it’s been a lot harder. I was even only authorized one MFE pilot on my team. Not that the whole squad was needed. Just reconnaissance.”

Keith swallowed the sudden hard rock in his throat. Shiro was sitting right here in front of him, and he wasn’t about to waste this time dwelling on what-could-haves and might-have-beens and all the million things he should have done differently all those years ago.

The waiter came by with a new fork. Keith expected menus but instead, plates of food were placed before them. A strange self-conscious feeling came over him when he noticed Shiro’s plate of what looked to be a healthy meal of grilled trout and greens. Keith, on the other hand, had a large medium-rare steak and a loaded baked potato overflowing with cheese and carbohydrates. And steak fries. Wait, why did he have two starches on his plate?

“That actually looks amazing,” Shiro remarked.

“I don’t get it. We hadn’t ordered anything yet.” Keith wanted to tear into that tender, red juicy meat but he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself in front of Shiro of all people even more so than he already had.

_What was Shiro even doing here!?_

“Meals are pre-determined by your preferences in your profile. Saves time.”

“Oh, right. That expiration date.”

Shiro tilted his head curiously. “Is this your first time?”

“Y-yeah. Just joined up yesterday.”

“It’s okay. I was nervous my first time, too.”

“Oh my God.”

Shiro blinked innocently. “What?”

Keith covered his face with his hand, struggling not to laugh too hard. “Really? Euphemisms? I thought you were better than that, _Captain.”_

Those dark eyes glimmered with devious humor. “You’ve known me since we were kids. C’mon now.”

“Well, if my Match virginity has to be taken by you, then I guess I can’t complain.”

Shiro nearly choked. “K-Keith! That was just blunt!”

“When have you ever known me to not be?”

“Touché. But seriously, welcome to the Match program.” He spread his arms in a gesture around the restaurant that was just too romantic and fancy for Keith’s comfort. “This is pretty much how it works. And it is customary to check the expiration date before we eat. It’s in the Home Menu, pretty easy to find.” Shiro already had his device in his hand, that little round computer each participant had to carry around with them at all times.

Keith stared at the little fingerprint on his device, the words _Tap to reveal_ and _both parties must tap at the same time_ staring back up at him on the blue screen. There was something exciting and yet sickeningly foreboding about this particular screen. Not that he didn’t want to know, but that this was something he _shouldn’t_ know. A certain time of death, even a metaphorical one, wasn’t knowledge meant for mortal creatures.

“On the count of three?” Shiro asked, and Keith realized he must have zoned out longer than he meant to.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Alright, one... two... _three!”_

Keith tapped the fingerprint perhaps a bit harder than necessary.

**12 hours.**

“Oh.”

Shiro’s “oh” pretty much captured the entire mood they both felt. “Wow,” Keith said, his voice light, trying to keep it humorous. “We get the bare minimum.” He remembered that much from the orientation. Because he had strongly thought giving a relationship only twelve hours was absolutely ridiculous. That was hardly a chance at all!

“That was pretty common when I started out,” Shiro said. “I don’t think I had a relationship longer than a few months until about my fifth.”

“When you were with Adam, right?”

Keith regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth. Shiro had been so in love with Adam. They had been together for a long time. Like almost three years, which was rare and long for the Match program. From Keith’s understanding, most relationships weren’t matched for longer than a year unless the relationship was like _really special_. Like just a tier below your Ultimate Match kind of special. Then their relationship expired just before Shiro left for Kerberos.

Which meant Keith was Shiro’s first Match since he came back from space. Since Adam.

Talk about pressure.

Shiro didn’t look bothered by Keith’s careless remark. In fact, he wore an contemplative expression. “Yup. That’s right. I guess they’re trying to bring me back slowly. Get me used to dating around again. Good thing we didn’t have to waste time ordering food.”

Keith breathed a bit easier. “Better eat quickly, then,” he replied with a somewhat forced smile.

He didn’t feel bad about tearing into his steak anymore. Not that he was a messy, gross eater. But he could eat _a lot._ Like even _Hunk_ had a few comments about it before. Keith never understood it, and it was something he was a bit self-conscious about even if his friends assured him it was because he was so active all the time, working out and doing all kinds of high-energy activities; it made sense he ate so much. But why did those explanations, logical as they are, not wash with his anxiety? Why did he suddenly feel so self-conscious around Shiro, who already knew this about him?

Keith had known Takashi Shirogane since they grew up together on the same street. Keith’s father had been friends with the Shiroganes for a long, long time. And when Heath Song died in a fire after rescuing a trapped toddler and the family dog, the Shiroganes took care of Keith before the system placed him in foster care. Keith had been about seven, close to eight, and Shiro had been there for him through the thick and thin of it. And when Keith had been kicked out of the Garrison, disciplinary issues despite being the Garrison’s most promising fighter pilot in training, Shiro had been there for him, too. Encouraged him to go back to school. Pursue other passions. Keith had decided to aim for a degree in journalism as he loved to write, especially knowledgeable things that could educate and better society. He even ran a blog during his free time.

Keith wasn’t sure what he would have done without Shiro, really. That Shiro turned out to be his first Match in this crazy dating system seemed kinda poetic. Shiro leading him through an uncertain time in his life. Again.

“So how did you end up signing up for this, anyway?” Shiro asked while the two sat in the little automated taxi taking them to their cabin for the night. “I’m really proud of you for putting yourself out there, but you never did like meeting new people much.”

“Lance wouldn’t stop bugging me about it,” Keith replied with a sigh, watching his breath flow from his lips. He kept a respectable distance from Shiro, even though Shiro’s huge muscular frame took up over half the seat. At least, the heat coming from such a large body kept him from getting too cold, made this ride a bit more bearable. Sheesh, couldn’t the Galra just let them ride in actual cars? Drive themselves to these cabins?

“That and I liked the idea of my rent and groceries being paid for. The Galra even said they would pay off the rest of my tuition, too. Can’t really beat those kind of benefits, even if it means putting up with relationships with random strangers.”

“Well, I hope you do end up enjoying it, anyway,” Shiro said. “It can be kinda fun. The system is good at matching you up with people you like.”

Maybe so, but Keith already had a handful of friends he enjoyed being around. It felt a bit pointless to form new relationships he had no say in that were already predetermined to not go anywhere. At least his rent was paid for, and he could eat all the food he wanted. Small price to pay, he supposed. He could focus on getting his degree without things like bills and exhaustion getting in the way.

The cabin was something Keith had not expected, so Shiro explained to him about how they were set up for new Matches to “bond”. He didn’t dare ask Shiro to clarify. “I kinda don’t wanna go inside yet,” he said instead as the taxi rolled away to fetch its next couple. “I’m still a bit restless.”

“Okay. There’s a park not far from here.”

If there was ever a specific type of night for romance to develop, this was it. The sky was clear of clouds, and millions of stars sparkled overhead. The moon was a large, sharp crescent, bathing the trees around them in silver light. As they walked along the small path through the park, leaves crunching beneath their feet, they chatted about what they had been up to, what movies they’ve seen, what new video games had come out. Shiro was especially curious about those things considering he had been away in space with no access to anything new.

“The others miss you a lot,” Keith said. “You’ll be coming back to the BLB soon, right?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Shiro replied. “Tell them I’m sorry about not coming back sooner. All that work and stuff.”

“Hey, you’re a Garrison commander, they’ll understand. Hunk got some new help, too. Another Altean named Romelle. She works with Allura when she’s not at the café. And one of the MFE pilots, Ryan.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Kinkade? Does this mean you and Griffin are finally getting along?”

Keith made a face like he just bit into something rotten. “How about we not mention that prick for the rest of the night, yeah?”

“Keith.”

“Sorry. I meant _stuck up asshole.”_

They might have been just kids back then, but Keith and James Griffin had been at odds since middle school. Going to the Garrison together had only worsened the bad blood between them. If Keith had disciplinary issues, James was the exact opposite. The perfect student. Teacher’s pet. Punching someone had never felt so good, even if it started Keith’s downward spiral to administrative discharge. Keith wasn’t so immature that he would blame James for directly causing his discharge, but the grudge he carried was dark and ugly all the same. Sometimes they ended up at the café at the same time, and struggled to not let the claws fly immediately.

Still, Griffin was an MFE pilot and under Shiro’s supervision. For Shiro’s sake, Keith would try to keep trashing his troop to a minimum. Especially tonight. He had less than twelve hours of having Shiro to himself. Who knew when the next time would come around when he would have another opportunity like this.

The cold January air lingered, but for Keith, it felt warm. Like he could walk out here all night with Shiro, watch the sunrise pour over the mountains and cover the lake in a golden shimmer.

They eventually went back inside, however. Shiro started to complain that he was getting cold a bit. His nose had even turned a little red. And Keith teased him about getting old.

Even though this was exactly what he should have expected given the nature of the program and everything, Keith was taken aback by the romantic atmosphere of the cabin with the fireplace and low lighting and one bed. These cabins were designed for couples to _bond,_ after all. “I... I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick,” he said.

“Sure. I can make us cocoa or whatever they got going on in the cabinets,” Shiro offered.

“Cocoa sounds great.”

Keith shut the bathroom door and yanked out the device. “Um... uhhhhhh... Coach?”

_“Yes, Keith?”_

Coach sounded a bit too loud, and he wondered if the thing even had a volume control. He didn’t want Shiro overhearing this conversation. He wasn’t even sure how to word this. “So like I uh... uhhhh... yeah, I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

_“You have been matched with Takashi Shirogane. The system has decided that your shared history makes him an excellent first Match for you. You are currently in Cabin #356 for bonding purposes. Your relationship will expire in 9 hours and 43 minutes.”_

“I know why I’m here,” Keith hissed impatiently. “But what do I do? Are we like...” He paused, struggling to keep his hand holding the device from shaking too much. “Am I supposed to have _sex_ with him now?” His voice cracked.

 _“If that is your wish,”_ Coach replied, its tone as close to a nonchalant shrug as a voice could get.

“And if it’s not?”

_“That is also acceptable. Not all Matches consider their respective relationships sexual, or even romantic by nature. You and your Match may bond in any way you both feel is right for your relationship. The system has a zero tolerance policy on acts performed without both parties’ consent.”_

The screen blinked, and a list appeared. _“From Home Menu under General Match Requirements, you will find the Consent Form which is required by both parties to complete before any acts of fornication. This is also where you may find the Sexual Abuse Report button which will immediately connect you to a system administrator and prompt an investigation.”_

Well, that was a relief. Keith wasn’t sure if he could handle having sex with Shiro. Like, they had known each other since Keith was barely walking. They liked to joke around that his first word had actually been “Taka” for Takashi. Shiro might be six years older, but they had been the best of friends their whole lives.

Now they were on a _date?_ That was bizarre enough. Sex?

It was too much for Keith. Too strange. Too different than what defined their relationship now. Maybe if their expiration date was much, much longer than twelve hours, Keith would consider it. Build up to it. But with their match ending in the morning, they wouldn’t even have time to process what they had done.

But if the system didn’t expect them to do anything but whatever they were already comfortable with doing, then Keith had nothing to worry about. The pressure was gone. He could just spend the rest of this relationship being with Shiro just like how they used to be.

Keith opened the door to see Shiro standing there completely shirtless, hands on the hem of his jeans to pull them down.

“Oh shit!” Keith cried, and slammed the bathroom door. “Shiro, I’m so sorry!” His face hurt from burning so hard.

“I... I thought I could change into pajamas real quick,” Shiro stammered from the other side of the door. “I didn’t realize you were done already! I didn’t hear the toilet flush!”

“No, no, I was just talking to my Coach is all,” Keith admitted, back against the door, breathing heavily. Calm down, calm down. It wasn’t like he had never seen Shiro nearly naked before. He had a dozen times, in the past few years alone just changing in the locker room after a gym session. It wasn’t a big deal.

Yet, for some reason, it felt so much _different._ Like the situation was totally different, making it an entirely different context than just changing at the gym like they used to three times a week. Maybe because they were matched? Maybe Keith was still really nervous with thoughts of having sex with Shiro on his mind? 

No. That wasn’t it.

Shiro was definitely way, way larger and more muscular than Keith remembered. But that wasn’t what stood out to him, what shocked him to the core.

Shiro’s arm. His right arm.

What used to be a human arm had been replaced with a cybernetic prosthetic. Shiro definitely did not have one of _those_ before he left for Kerberos.

Keith wondered if it had to do with Shiro’s illness, if it had worsened while he was gone.

Just before Shiro hit puberty, he had been diagnosed with a disease that slowly deteriorated his muscles. While alien technology made medical science hardly short of miraculous, there was only so much it could do for illnesses like Shiro’s. Because of the constant care he would need as he grew older and the illness grew stronger, this was the reason why the Shirogane family couldn’t take in Keith for very long.

Shiro’s career with the Garrison wouldn’t last much longer, not at this rate if they were already replacing his limbs.

Shiro had it hidden all night, too, now that Keith thought back on it. He had reached for his fork with only his left hand, hugged Keith with his left hand, ate with his left hand with his right arm tucked beneath the table. All despite the fact Shiro was right-handed. And Keith had been so stupidly excited to see Shiro again that he hadn’t even _noticed._

“I’m dressed,” Shiro announced, his voice soft like he was embarrassed and sheepish.

Their gazes barely met when Keith stepped out of the bathroom. The elephant in the room was massive. There was no way to ignore it.

“There was accident.” Shiro spoke up first, his voice so soft that Keith barely heard him.

In fact, Keith was sure he hadn’t heard Shiro correctly, and his head shot up. “An accident? Wait. So... it’s not because of your illness?”

Shiro shook his head. “No. I’m on a new medication that has been helping me a lot more these days. But, no, there was an accident on Kerberos. _A bad one._ That’s why the mission reports are taking so long and need to be utterly perfect. It’s an investigation. Something went very wrong out there. And even now I’m still not sure exactly what or why.”

“What happened?” Keith couldn’t help asking, even though he knew Shiro wouldn’t be able to answer him.

Shiro grimaced, and pressed his hand against his temple.

“Shiro?”

“Just a headache,” he muttered with a wince. “I’ve been getting a lot of them since coming back. I thought it was just the change in atmospheric pressure, but they haven’t been going away.”

“Have you asked your PCM about that?”

Shiro groaned in exasperation. He hated doctors. His later childhood had been a constant revolving hospital door, sometimes to routine appointments, sometimes to the ER. “They checked me a few times since I came back, including brain scans. Nothing out of the ordinary. Even my illness has stabilized.”

“Yeah, but if you keep getting these headaches — “

“Keith, **I’m fine.”**

For a man going on twenty-eight, Shiro was impossibly stubborn in regards to his own health. Keith knew damn well that the lightly peppered lemon trout with all green veggies and few carbs was a ruse: if not for The Hub and the free groceries, Shiro would be stuffing his face with boxed Mac-n-Cheese every day. He really hoped the Match program kept hooking him up with chefs. Shiro worked out a ton, but that was as far as his personal health habits went.

“You want a Tylenol?” Keith ventured.

“No.” Shiro puffed his cheeks childishly, and then deflated them with a defeated sigh. “Yes.”

“Okay.”

Keith fetched the bottle of Tylenol, and a shiver went up his spine when his indigo gaze fell on the unopened box of condoms right next to it. They all had birthing inhibitors implanted in their bodies, but he supposed such things couldn’t prevent STIs and the like. It wasn’t like the Galra being here eradicated human disease entirely. And all the better if your partner was an alien.

They agreed to go ahead and get in bed. It was awkward. They both lay on their backs, staring up at the dark ceiling, listening to the low hum of the heater. Shiro had Keith lay by his left side, away from his arm.

“Does it hurt?” Keith asked after a long, long moment. With Shiro next to him, he wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon.

“Sometimes,” Shiro admitted. “Better than phantom pain, I suppose. I don’t know what I would do if I were to feel something from nothing there.”

“You don’t remember not having your arm?”

“No. It’s all hazy. I don’t really remember much from the mission. And it’s not just the classified protocols making me say that, either.”

“I’m sorry.”

A groan. “Oh, Keith. Don’t be, _please.”_

“I know you hate it when people say that, but I mean it,” Keith insisted. “Feels like shit just keeps happening to you, and you shouldn’t have to deal with it.”

Shiro shrugged, touching his cybernetic fingers as if noticing them for the first time. “That’s how it is, squirt. You gotta play with the cards your dealt. Besides, it could’ve been way worse.” He looked over at Keith and smiled. His black eyes burned like obsidian into Keith’s gaze. “I’m alive, and I’m back here where I belong. Can’t ask for much more than that.”

Their gazes lingered, and suddenly Keith was painfully hyperaware of the two of them sharing a bed, king-sized and yet still much, much too small, aware of Shiro’s body heat and the lines of his face and the depth of his eyes. There was a deep scar across his nose. How in the heck had Keith not noticed that either until now? He was so happy to see Shiro again after a year, so giddy to be reunited with his childhood friend, he had completely overlooked the many ways in which his childhood friend had drastically changed.

He wasn’t about to let their relationship change so drastically, too.

Keith looked back at the ceiling where it was safe. His arms were rigid at his sides, probably exactly what being a dead body about to be dissected in the morgue felt like.

“This kinda takes me back,” he said, wisely changing the subject. “The day of my old man’s funeral. I think that’s when it actually hit me that he was gone. Of course, nothing like seeing him lowered into the ground to really make it official, I guess.”

Not much of a better different subject, really.

“Yeah?” Shiro prompted, encouraging him to continue.

Keith felt the brush of fingers over his. The touch was warm, calming. Intimate. Like, sure, he and Shiro hugged all the time. But this... this was on an entirely different level. And Keith couldn’t say he didn’t like it.

“I snuck in your bed,” Keith continued, slowly, carefully, turning his hand so his fingers could brush back. Intertwine. “God, I think I was almost eight? This little crying, snotty kid climbing into your bed. You were a bit annoyed. But you didn’t push me away. You let me stay there, as long as I needed.”

Despite the flips flopping around in his stomach, he felt his eyes get heavy. Each blink was slower than the last. The humming, the soft darkness, the feel of Shiro’s hand in his. Wow, why did that feel so right?

“Do you remember that?”

There was a long moment of silence. Just when Keith thought Shiro had already fallen asleep, being an old grandpa and all...

“Yeah,” Shiro replied softly from the dark. “Yeah. I remember that.”

“Good.”

Keith didn’t know why he needed Shiro to acknowledge that he remembered that particular moment in their long history. Something in him, like an instinct, just needed to know that he did. Keith closed his eyes with a small smile and slept with ease, never letting go of Shiro’s hand.

* * *

 

**-2.5-**

The next morning came much too soon for Keith. They got out of bed just a bit before seven. Keith brushed his teeth while Shiro shaved, they pulled on their coats, and headed out the door. Couples usually waited on the porch for the automated go-carts to come get them when they were done with a cabin, but these two decided to bend the rules a bit and headed for the lake.

Dawn had yet to break so early in the middle of winter, but the sky had already brightened to deep blue instead of pitch black. Birds chirped in the trees. They were getting louder these days as more and more of them joined the chorus each morning. The weather will warm up again soon enough once this frozen month was over. It usually got as high in the seventies by the time February came around. And this was why Keith preferred the desert over any other environment on the planet. The cold here, while frigid and miserable, was mercifully short-lived.

Both of their devices started to beep loudly, cutting into the gentle pre-dawn. The countdown to the end of their relationship had begun. All of a sudden, Keith felt Shiro’s hand in his. His left hand. The one that was warm with flesh and pulsing blood. Keith held his breath as he listened to those loud beeps ticking at the last ten precious seconds they had. Shiro’s hand squeezed.

The final beep echoed throughout his brain like a flatline.

Then came the rapid beeping that their time was up. With their free hands, both Shiro and Keith took their devices out of their coats in one movement to shut them off. There was a sense of defiance here. The taxis were waiting for them back at the cabin, no doubt. It was time to move on to the rest of their day like these past twelve hours hadn’t happened.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them let go of the other’s hand.

“So, that’s it then?” Keith asked.

“Maybe not,” Shiro replied. “It’s not unheard of for people to be rematched.”

“So you’re saying you want a second date?” Keith teased with a toothy grin, then tried to duck as Shiro let go of his hand to mess up his hair. “Hey!”

“Don’t be too much of a troublemaker for your next Match,” Shiro retorted. “Come on, let’s head back before the Galra think we’ve eloped.”

They returned to the cabin where the taxis were waiting, not holding hands, but walking very close together as if maybe whoever was watching would take the hint. Shiro climbed in one, and Keith in the other. The automated taxis would carry them away from the compound back into the city, to their actual homes wherever they lived. Keith felt kinda bummed out that he and Shiro had to ride separately, but their relationship was over now. There was no point in lingering together any longer.

Keith laid his head back against the seat as his taxi pulled away in the opposite direction from Shiro. He could see the lake slowly rolling by, turning into a golden shimmer as the sun climbed over the mountains. He sat up straight and took off his coat, now feeling warm.


	3. Low-Pressure Vacuum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two new characters are introduced as the drama happening within our little group of heroes starts to thicken. Ryan gets strangely upset about certain news from Nadia. Keith ends up talking to a mysterious online stranger before having an even more interesting conversation with Shiro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I meant to announce this last update but I hadn’t made my decision yet but two major things: 
> 
> 1) This fic will be updated every other Tuesday. I tried for weekly but given my schedule and other projects I wanna work on, every other week feels more doable. 
> 
> 2) These chapters will be shorter. Not much shorter, only about 2k~3k less depending on the chapter, but I won’t be striving for 8k+ anymore. Now that the setup is pretty much there, the plot can move along much faster. 
> 
> Enjoy! And please find me on Twitter @bluerobokitty if you wanna chat about this fic or just VLD in general. I also need more Grizavi frens.

**-1-**

Pidge’s legs swung impatiently as she sat in the empty waiting room, too short for these uncomfortable chairs. Whoever had their appointment before her was taking much longer than necessary, which was surprising, considering she had been under the impression that the Galra were very strict about sticking to schedule. They had been kind enough to warn her that if she showed up even two minutes late, they would terminate her appointment and not allow her to reschedule up to another year. That’s how much of a backlog they had.

When a program promised to pay for all your expenses and provide you with everything you could ever need, including romantic companionship, little wonder so many wanted to join. But only few were permitted. The online orientation had been grueling and involved enough, and the in-person interview was going to be even _worse._ They had her preferences, sure, but they were to go over _everything_ about her from the moment she was born until now, eight months after turning eighteen, with a fine-tooth comb.

Her pale fingers played over her green folder where all her paperwork sat neatly organized and paper-clipped together. Her birth certificate, high school diploma she received when she had been valedictorian, online application, essays of her skills and her abilities, medical chart, her acceptance into the Galaxy Garrison last semester, everything that made her Katherine Holt. Pidge was just her nickname. Her older brother, Matt, called her that, and she hated that name so much in middle school. But now _everyone_ called her Pidge because of him, and she just rolled with it.

She really was too short for this chair. It was like all the puberty she was ever going to get hit her when she was thirteen. She wasn’t even five whole feet! With her pixie honey hair and round glasses that could do nothing to hide the childish freckles on her cheeks, people more often than not mistook her for a twelve-year-old boy than an almost nineteen-year-old young woman, an official adult.

She hoped the Galra wouldn’t think the same thing, that she was just a young child trying to illegally enroll in the Match program. Documents were ridiculously easy to fake so long as you knew what you were doing. And Pidge, somewhat unfortunately, knew _a lot_ of things. Some things she had no business knowing.

This room did not help her anxiety any. There was nothing friendly about it. Oh, sure, it was pretty with pearlescent walls that glimmered with soft pastel colors at every angle. But there were no plants, no paintings, nothing that felt cozy and at home.

An Altean receptionist sat at a desk that was the same sleek pearly opal as the rest of the room, making it very difficult for your eyes to separate it from the walls. She seemed pleasant enough, curly blue hair with matching markings, but she was clearly too engrossed with her computer. Striking up light conversation to pass the time just felt more and more awkward as the silence slipped by.

Maybe making you wait was like part of the test. To see if you were committed enough to endure long awkward alone moments while you waited for your appointment to begin. They had even taken her smartphone when she entered the building; no communication devices or cameras allowed. So she couldn’t text Hunk to pass the time, see how the BLB crew was doing. She heard that Keith not only got into the program, he even had a Match the other night. She wanted to know more about that, but Keith hadn’t exactly volunteered a lot of details the last time she asked him. She had to rely on Hunk’s intuitive gossip to fill in the blanks.

She had no idea how any of this was supposed to go. The online orientation didn’t cover any of the exact details of what her in-person interview would entail. Said it was impossible because each person’s interview was unique. Unsurprising, considering the no-phone-no-camera rule.

Pidge would put up with it. She wasn’t here for dating. In fact, being romantically involved with _anyone_ was the last thing on her mind.

The receptionist looked up at her with striking green eyes and said in a most pleasant voice, “Katherine Holt? They are ready for you now.” She stood up, and led Pidge through the door in the back of the room by the desk into a long hallway also made up of pearlescent walls with geometric lines of aqua-blue. It gave the impression that Pidge was on a spaceship instead of a building in the middle of Plaht City, pretty and cold.

The monotony of the long hall broke up when they passed by windows looking into a large room where machines were hard at work at some assembly line. A few Alteans and others of varying alien races supervised the workload, glowing tablets in the their hands. “What’s that room?” Pidge asked.

“That is where the Coaches are made,” the receptionist explained. “Each Coach is specifically tailored to individual participants of the Match program. It guides you and coaches you through any relationship hangups and questions you may have. It collects all of your data and coordinates Matches through our expansive algorithm here at headquarters.”

“Leading up to your Ultimate Match, right?”

“With a 99.8% success rate, yes.”

“And what about the .2% unsuccessful rate?”

The receptionist didn’t miss a beat. “There are some participants who have been banished from the program for violating their contracts. Unfortunately, they must be counted among our numbers. So long as you abide by your contract and allow your Coach to guide you, you should have no issue having successful matches.”

Pidge sighed under her breath. She might as well have been talking to the online orientation video. The receptionist merely repeated the facts, no personal spin of her own on it. No how wonderful the program was, or if she was even a participant herself.

She kept in mind where that room was located. Eidetic memory came in handy from time to time.

The room the receptionist brought Pidge to was far more comfortably decorated. Golden swirls now joined lines of bright aqua colored lights woven through the pearly walls. Boxes filled with pretty purple flowers bloomed throughout the room like a garden. Off to the side stood an elaborate marble fountain of some alien horse-like figure, water cascading in long streams from the creature’s body to the pool below. The sound of streaming water soothed her nerves, calmed her down.

The equestrian face reminded her of a kelpie, a fae creature that would beckon you a ride upon its back only to dive into the water and drag you to your murky death. It was one of her favorite legends.

A desk stood in front of a warm window overlooking the wooded park that stretched out far below. And in front of the desk, sat a comfortable sofa with plush cushions. The receptionist beckoned Pidge to sit down on this particular sofa, so she did, folder resting on her lap. With a polite bow, the receptionist left the room, leaving Pidge to wait once again.

Pidge didn’t have to wait long this time. Barely a minute passed when two people, once again Alteans, entered the room. One looked to be a girl not that much older than Pidge herself and shockingly paler, with long bright red hair. The other was a tall man so brown that his sky-blue markings seemed to glow in contrast.

“Greetings, Katherine,” the girl said. “I am Luca. This is Tavo. We’ll be your interviewers for today.”

Pidge blinked. “Not the Galra?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking, rude as it sounded.

Neither Luca nor Tavo seemed bothered by her surprise. In fact, Luca gave her a gentle smile as if she understood the confusion. They probably got that reaction a lot. “As a diplomatic race, we Alteans are proud to serve as liaisons for the Galra,” Tavo said. “So they permit us to conduct these interviews with promising candidates for the Match program in their place.”

Pidge wanted to make a joke that maybe the Galra didn’t really exist, but rather, the Alteans were the ones behind everything. She didn’t, however. It was a joke in poor taste that really didn’t settle right in her stomach the moment the thought even occurred to her. After all, weren’t the Alteans also controlled by the Galra?

So she swallowed back her words and smiled instead. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Luca and Tavo.”

The two Alteans nodded. “Likewise.” They took their places behind the desk, opened the folder Pidge gave them, and the interview began.

“Tell us about yourself, Miss Holt,” Luca prompted. She had only browsed the folder for a few pages before setting it aside like it meant nothing to her. Tavo didn’t even give it a glance, keeping his piercing eyes fixed on Pidge.

“Well, I kinda prefer to be called ‘Pidge’ if it’s all the same. Everyone calls me that.”

Luca nodded. “Of course, Pidge. Whatever you’d like.”

Talk about herself, huh? One of the subjects she actively avoided. If not for her friends at Black Lion Brewers, she never would’ve made it this far.

Pidge pushed her glasses up her nose, stalling for a minute to gather her thoughts. “Um, well, I guess I really like peanut butter. And peanut butter cookies and Reese’s Pieces. But peanuts by themselves are really gross. So dry. And I have a lot of allergies. But not related to the peanuts, thankfully.”

Tavo and Luca both simply stared at her. Oh boy. Were all Alteans like this? This reminded her too much of when she had met Allura for the first time, when Matt introduced the Altean diplomat to the rest of the family. That had been a few years ago, during Pidge’s last year of middle school, back when things were pretty bad for her socially. Allura had made her feel like she was the in the presence of an elegant princess. And to this day, as she was pretty much the group princess. And, of course, Pidge had rambled on about peanuts back then, too.

“I guess you mean something more personal, huh?”

Luca leaned forward a bit, clasping her hands, intertwining her long ivory fingers together. “You may talk about whatever you feel will help us understand who you are.”

“Well, I’m not quite nineteen yet, so I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted. Might as well be honest.

Tavo nodded with a thoughtful “Hmmm.”

Pidge looked down at her hands folded on her lap, playing thumb war with herself.

“It’s a bit difficult for me to get personal with people. I’m a bit of a tech genius, and I know a lot of things so I was bullied a lot in class. All those jerks would call me a nerd and tell me that I act like a know-it-all and put insulting notes in my locker. It got a bit better in high school, but I mostly stayed away from everyone by then. I have friends, but they are older than me. My brother’s friends. They’re safer, I guess, since they don’t go to my school. They’re great, though. If not for them, I don’t think I would have gotten the courage to put myself out there like this. Wouldn’t have been able to join the Match program, y’know?”

Pidge adjusted her glasses again and looked up at the Alteans shyly.

“Yes, good,” Luca replied, and she clapped gently, genuinely. “This is precisely what we hope to accomplish in this interview. Going over things about yourself that we could not possibly cover with such depth online. This data will accurately match you with participants who understand your feelings and allow you to immediately connect with them. Trust me, there are plenty of tech geniuses who feel just the way you do in our database.”

That would be nice, Pidge guessed. She had a bit of anxiety over the idea of her first Match being someone horrible, unrelatable, and she would be stuck with that someone for a predetermined amount of time.

The trickling water from the fountain really did relax her. With that initial personal hurdle cleared, Pidge started rambling on about herself. Her anxieties. Her dreams. How much she loved science and math and programming. Such things were far more reliable than people most of the time. Numbers didn’t bully you for preferring them over words. Science wanted you to know more, never berated you for knowing too much. How they were the reasons she was able to follow her father’s and brother’s footsteps by entering the Galaxy Garrison as one of their most promising cadets.

Tavo stared at her with a sudden spark of interest in his eyes. “The Galaxy Garrison, you say?”

It was all in those essays Pidge had written. She wondered if all that paperwork had been a waste of time. “Yeah,” she replied. “My dad’s a Commander. My brother works with the engineering crew. I thought I wanted to work in engineering, too, but I think I might actually be a Communications Officer, work with code interpretation and things like that.”

Luca and Tavo suddenly had their heads close together, conversing so quietly, Pidge couldn’t hear them even at this proximity. Had she said something wrong?

“Commander Holt is your father?” Luca asked at length. That friendly, warm tone her voice carried this past hour had suddenly frozen over.

“Y-yes?” Pidge answered.

Luca and Tavo both stood to their feet in one unified movement. “Our interview has concluded,” Luca said with wooded words. “The system will be in touch with you shortly once a decision has been reached.”

“Wait, I don’t get to know right away?”

“Sometimes, participants may have _unique_ circumstances that require extra considerations,” Tavo explained. “Rest assured that we will be in touch with you very shortly.” There was a finality in his words that kept Pidge from questioning it any further no matter how much she wanted to.

Pidge took her folder from the desk, the folder she agonized so hard over to be perfect that they had not bothered looking at, said her goodbyes and left the room. Her cheeks burned. Her eyes stun a little, much to her surprise. Her stomach churned with embarrassment. What a waste of time this had all been, especially after she had bared her soul in front of two complete strangers! There were a million better things she could’ve done with her Saturday afternoon.

Getting into the program wasn’t her only option, not by a long shot.

But if she was denied, then her job just got a whole heck of a lot harder.

**-2-**

Nadia hadn’t moved her head from the counter for ten minutes now. Keith wondered if maybe she had fallen asleep. Which he didn’t blame her. He hadn’t gotten any sleep last night, the first night after his extremely short relationship with Shiro had come to an end. He would give anything to just conk out and pretend this world didn’t exist for a little while.

Well, if she wasn’t going to drink that bubble tea of hers then might as well not let her hard earned $5 the Galra had paid her go to waste.

Still, it could be worse.

 _He_ could’ve been the one matched with Griffin for an insufferably long time.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again, and sipped on her drink. Ugh, mango. “That has got to be a special kind of hell.”

She didn’t respond except with a long groan into the polished dark wood.

“Trouble in Lovers’ Paradise?” Hunk remarked, shaking his head as he wiped a coffee bin dry. “I take it our first Matches didn’t go so well.”

“My date with Shiro was fine,” Keith replied, cheeks reddening a bit. Too well. He hadn’t been able to get Shiro off his mind ever since, still trying to process everything that had happened between them.

Nadia groaned again, reminding them of her misery.

“Not gonna be that person,” Ryan Kinkade said as he counted the money from the register, “but I saw this coming. I mean, Griff tells me he’s got a new Match that morning, and then you come in yelling about how _you_ got a new Match, it was just serendipity at that point.”

Nadia’s head shot up, her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You _knew_ Griffin was part of the program!? _And you didn’t warn me!?!”_

 _“Ooooooooh,”_ Keith said under his breath before taking another drink of Nadia’s bubble tea despite the horrible flavor.

Ryan shrugged. “He made me swear on the sanctity our pilot brotherhood to secrecy. Also, it’s more fun to watch this way.”

”Ryaaaan!! What about _our_ sanctity!?”

He cocked a thick eyebrow at her. “Nadia, you and sanctity are not things that belong in the same sentence.”

She growled. “Where’s a pen? Hunk, hand me your pen. I’m gonna throw it at him.”

“How many times I have told you to stop assaulting my employees with all the pens?” Hunk shot back. “Then I can never find them again, and I have to keep buying new ones.”

“Besides, it’s not like you would’ve been able to stop anything,” Ryan added, closing the drawer and sliding his dish towel off his shoulder to twist around in his hands. “It would’ve been all the same, right? Like you two still have to be together because of your contract.”

“Not the point,” Nadia muttered, pouty and petulant. Then Keith flinched when she turned her gaze on him like a pair of golden daggers. “At least you got to date someone you like, shortlived as it was.”

Keith almost spit out her drink. He coughed hard as fruity liquid spilled down the wrong tube. “I-I-I don’t like Shiro like that!” he yelped, choking between words. “It was _weird!_ Shiro’s practically my brother! _We grew up together!”_

The three of them, _all three of them,_ Nadia, Ryan, and Hunk, each looked at Keith with an utterly unconvinced expression that mirrored the other two. “Yeah, okay,” Nadia deadpanned. “Whatever you say, man. And stop drinking my bubble tea! You don’t even like mango!” Ryan grunted. Hunk shook his head.

Romelle came to Keith’s rescue when she burst in from the back. “Comrades!” she cried cheerfully. Romelle, being rather new to Earth, still hadn’t quite fully grasped the English language - _American_ version. Therefore, she often used extremely out-dated phrases, synonyms that made no sense, or just utter nonsense. “I just finished corresponding with Allura on my brand new smart cellular phone. I just told her all about your new Matches! She thinks you all should go with her and Lance to the arched amusement gallery tomorrow!”

Ryan coughed into his fist, and Hunk asked, slowly, “You mean the _arcade?”_

“Is that not what I said?”

“It’s... close enough,” Ryan replied in a way that kept him from laughing.

“Romelle, I don’t have a Match anymore,” Keith pointed out. “My relationship with Shiro only lasted twelve hours.”

“And I have to move tomorrow,” Nadia added with an already tired sigh, exhausted just thinking about it.

“Oh.” Romelle lowered her eyes in disappointment. “Allura will be unhappy to hear that.” And she disappeared into the back of the café to deliver the bad news.

“You’re moving?” Ryan suddenly asked Nadia, tilting his head at her. _“Where?”_

“To Griffin’s place. Gonna be rooming it up together.”

“Grooooosssss,” Keith groaned.

“I don’t mind, his apartment actually has two bedrooms. Figured we would just be roommates for the year or something. I guess he tried to be nice and offered to do all the moving instead, but like my tiny studio barely fits _me!_ And he has a whole ass tub in, get this, _both_ his bathrooms, like really all we’ll be sharing is a kitchen...”

She trailed off because Ryan was giving her this shocked, burning stare.

“What?”

“You’re moving in _together?”_

Nadia blinked. “Yeah. I mean, like I said, we’ve decided we’re just gonna be more like roommates than being _together_ -together. I feel like it actually makes it less awkward this way. We’ll be fulfilling the requirements of our contract without actually dating, y’know. It’s kinda perfect.”

Keith supposed that was one way of looking at it. He glanced at Hunk and shrugged, giving the larger man a non-verbal statement that said this wasn’t any of their business, something Nadia and Griffin needed to figure out on their own. This wasn’t like Keith’s date with Shiro; here, Hunk’s usual prying could cause some major problems.

Keith might not give a rat’s one asscheek about Griffin, but Nadia... He cared a lot about Nadia.

Ryan didn’t seem at all satisfied with her answer, however, and he shook his head with his signature “Hmph”. Then he tossed the dish towel into the sink before disappearing into the back after Romelle.

“Well, that’s awkward,” Hunk commented.

Nadia shrugged, not bothered. “He’s just worried about me. Griffin and I haven’t exactly gotten along since I got back from Kerberos. Things had been really weird between us. Even before we were Matched.”

Hunk and Keith exchanged knowing glances again.

”Also, Ryan just seems to really hate the program,” Nadia rambled on, playing with one of her long tendrils of black hair.

“Oh, I got that.” Hunk grinned proudly. “Him and I have all kinds of crazy theories why such a program even exists in the first place. It’s kinda how we pass the time after the lunch rush when things slow down a lot, y’know, since this isn’t exactly a dinner place, just a pair of guys, conspiring together.”

“Sounds romantic,” Keith teased.

“Yeah, well, _hey — !”_

Keith and Nadia high fived.

Romelle came back into the room then. “So, Allura says that she doesn’t care about your plans or whatever Matches you may or may not have, the two of you are going to meet her at the amusement gallery — “

“Arcade,” Keith and Nadia corrected.

“ — with your dates and that is that. She will not be denied.”

“Of course not. No one can deny our princess anything,” Keith replied with no lack of affection. Her message delivered, Romelle vanished once again to the back.

Nadia released a long dramatic sigh. “I guess I’ll have to tell Griffin that _oh nooooo_ we can’t spend the day carrying heavy boxes around, we’re going out to have _fun_ instead.”

“Oooooooor,” Keith interjected mischievously, “you could not tell him anything, and he can do all that moving by himself while we have fun without our dates.”

“Oh, you bad boy, that’s almost _mean.”_ She grinned, tongue playing over the straw of her bubble tea she had snatched back from him. “But tempting. Very tempting.”

“Woe be the day the two of you are _ever_ matched up together,” Hunk groaned and poured fresh beans into the grinder.

**-3-**

Except for a few courtesy text messages of no importance, Keith and Shiro hadn’t spoken much since their Match date. Shiro was no doubt still busy with Garrison work, even on a Saturday. Being a Garrison Commander and the Captain of the Atlas really took up a lot of his time. Keith wondered why Shiro even bothered with something like the Match program, which was heavy with its own commitments.

Then again, Shiro wouldn’t have been able to resist something like this, would he? He’d always had been a huge, sentimental romantic. Cried at Disney movies and everything.

So when Keith’s smartphone gave a little chime, notifying him of a new message, Keith didn’t scramble to check it. Probably Lance reminding him of the time they were all supposed to meet up at the arcade tomorrow. Keith had been right, there would be no denying Allura _anything._ Whatever she wanted, she got, one way or the other. Popular rumor on the street was that Allura really was a princess, and she was just hiding it. She certainly acted the part. Honestly, if anyone else behaved in such a way, Keith would have hated it, but from Allura, it was endearing. Just how she was.

His phone dinged again.

Ugh, Lance could be so annoyingly _persistent._

Not wanting to deal with anyone, especially Lance, Keith left his phone on the couch and made himself a snack. Leftover pizza from last night. Eating just as bad as Shiro. He chewed on a piece, cold, not even bothering to microwave it.

His dog, Kosmo, who had padded into the kitchen after him, whined, wagging his fluffy tail.

”No, Kosmo, you can’t eat this, it’s bad for you,” Keith said. “It’s not even good for _me.”_

Kosmo whined again, not caring. Honestly, this dog had a whole bowl still halfway full of the best brand of dog food on the market that Keith used to break his bank over before joining the Match program. Yet, he still wanted cold human leftovers that humans should probably not be eating in the first place.

Although it was inaccurate to describe Kosmo as a dog. More like a wolf. More like a cosmic wolf with blue fur and markings that glowed, who just showed up at his door one morning a few years ago when he first moved into this apartment.

When Keith went to the kitchen table, Kosmo suddenly blinked out of existence to appear on top of the table in Keith’s face. _”ACK!!!”_ Keith yelped, nearly dropping his pizza.

Yeah, Kosmo could do that, too.

”Hey, bad boy! Off the table!” The cheap furniture creaked beneath the animal’s weight, barely able to hold him. “C’mon, be good and we’ll go for a walk here in a few.”

Kosmo stared at him with dark eyes filled with intelligence that could easily outmatch most people. Understanding him perfectly, he jumped off the table as graceful as a cat, although the floor shook a bit. Keith muttered a silent apology to the neighbors living beneath him.

He gave Kosmo a few good scratches between the ears, then sat down and popped open his laptop.

His blog had gained several new followers since he posted about his very first Match date ever. And by several, his follower count now neared 1k compared to the measly 236 he had been clinging to for the last five months. Apparently, people loved reading about this Match program shit. Comments upon comments demanded more details, what more was said, what they had been wearing, what Shiro smelled like. Yeah, that last one was weird.

Keith thought his piece was already detailed enough, but he might have glossed over the more insignificant specifics. Perhaps that had been a bad idea considering the high demand for them now.

It should be pointed out that he hadn’t mentioned Shiro by name, of course. Protect identity and all that. Also, he couldn’t imagine the kind of unwanted attention he would have gotten if he wrote in that his Match had been the _Captain of the IGF-Atlas_. He was already having a time scanning through all these comments, a lot of them squealing over his date and lamenting that it had only lasted twelve hours. That theirs was a tragic romance. A couple of comments were less thrilled about his post, strangely and awkwardly reprimanding him for going out with a guy six years older than him. Okay, Karen.

One comment caught his eye. Well, they all did, but _this one_ made him linger long enough to soak every word in, slowly chewing the pizza in his mouth to mush before swallowing hard.

**Have you ever considered simply ignoring the program’s rules and dating him anyway? Who would even know?**

This comment was marked private, something only meant for Keith’s eyes to see. To post something like that in public was to paint a target on your own back.

The Galra didn’t interfere much with everyone’s daily lives, including online ones. Many posts from limited character tweets to massive novel-length threads debated over the ethics and politics of how the Galra ruled their planet. Most posters never received anything as punishment, just a moderator telling them to cool their heads if the discussion got too heated. Some accounts have been suspended only to reappear again a few days later, temporary banishment for letting an argument get out of hand.

People held a lot of differing opinions of the Galra. Keith knew that first-hand.

Lance thought the Galra were the greatest thing to ever happen to Earth. He’d always been so empathetic and sensitive. The story of how humanity nearly destroyed itself back during the Third War had shaken him more than their other classmates. It was natural for someone like Lance to never want something so horrific to ever happen again, not in his lifetime, not in any other. Besides, the Galran Match program led him to Allura, the love of his life. He probably felt grateful to them on a scale that Keith couldn’t imagine.

Hunk, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. He didn’t outright hate the Galra, but he didn’t trust them. Hunk believed the Match program with all its benefits was one of those too good to be true kinda things. Hunk always believed there was a catch to everything. For his big sunshiny personality, he was far from an optimistic, preferred to be a “realist”, and aliens taking over your planet didn’t do so out of the kindness of their hearts. Keith couldn’t really find a way to argue with that logic.

Still. Hard to say “no” to free rent. And free extremely expensive dog food for your picky furbaby.

Point being, the one thing that no one dared debate about online for all to see was the Match program.

Specifically, whether or not you should _break the rules_ of the Match program.

Accounts that made posts saying that you shouldn’t let the Galra tell you whom you could and couldn’t date disappeared to never come back. Of course, the Galra were far more subtle about it. The “reasoning” behind the ban was usually over something else, like abuse or posting other sensitive content, but when you connected the dots, the one thing all these vanquished accounts had in common was that they were outspoken against following the Match rules.

It was one of those things you could only put together if you actively looked. And, well, what kind of journalist would Keith be if he didn’t actively look?

He had never heard of this user before: **PurplePanda31**. Such a name looked so impersonal, as if randomly generated by the site itself. He wondered if this was one of the suspended users under a new account.

He didn’t hesitate to click the name to visit Panda’s home page.

Nothing. No posts, no followers, no one they were following. Created the day Keith posted his Match story. Yup. Suspended user read his post and immediately made a new account specifically to talk to _him._

Now this was much too intriguing to pass up. His journalist senses tingled with excitement, anticipation. Keith had yet to have a personal one-on-one with someone silenced by the Galra over the Match program. The account’s private messenger was open. A box appeared, the blinking text cursor prompting Keith to type his message. His fingers played over the keyboard without touching any letters, suddenly unsure what he should say, exactly. He didn’t want to waste this rare opportunity.

PurplePanda31.

He swallowed the hardening lump in his throat.

Then words appeared within the box so suddenly that Keith actually jumped back in his seat.

> **PurplePanda31:** I see you are online so I took the liberty to contact you directly. I wasn’t sure if my comment had been lost in the sea of replies you’ve received in that post. Very amusing reading, if I may say so. You have quite the gift for writing. No wonder you’ve become so popular overnight. Keep this up and the Galra may notice you, too.

Keith’s heart raced in his chest.

Why did it feel like this person _knew_ he was hesitating?

Keith quickly typed back:

> **Cosmicfirewolf:** I did see your comment. About breaking the Match rules, right?

The reply was almost immediate.

> **PurplePanda31:** Well, have you? Considered it, I mean. You like this guy, don’t you?

He frowned. He may have written a blog post about his date with Shiro mostly to talk about his first experience with the Match program. But how he felt about Shiro, that personal aspect of it, was no one else’s business. Especially not some rando with the user name of a cuddly creature.

Keith could already hear Hunk screaming at him to _abort! abort!_ the conversation immediately, that this was a trap, that the Galra were already checking on him to make sure he stayed a good boy who followed the rules to the letter. Lance would probably agree, although for far different reasons.

Another message appeared.

> **PurplePanda31:** I apologize. That came across as rather rude, didn’t it? I rarely have the opportunity to talk to new participants. I am simply intrigued with what you plan to do next.

Keith couldn’t help typing: 

> **Cosmicfirewolf:** Won’t we get in trouble for talking about this?
> 
> **Purplepanda31:** The Galra care not for private conversations. Only what you post publicly. So we are quite safe here. If you are that concerned about the rules, then I suppose there is nothing to worry about. 

Oh.

Oh, Panda was _warning_ him.

> **Cosmicfirewolf:** You think I might start posting about breaking the rules for him?
> 
> **PurplePanda31:** Well, as someone who is active online as you are, I’ve no doubt you’ve seen what’s happened with the others. It would be a shame to lose fresh talent like yours. Like I said, you have a gift for writing. Far more intriguing than some of the most controversial authors. The first time in a long time I’ve read a blog post that’s kept me so engaged. It would be boring if you were to disappear, too. 
> 
> **Cosmicfirewolf:** Thanks.

Keith supposed.

> **PurplePanda31:** My pleasure.

Sharp guitar notes blared through his living room, and Keith jumped again. Kosmo leaped to his feet, making a noise in his throat, ears standing at attention. The smartphone vibrated over the couch, inching closer and closer to the floor, as music screamed from its speakers. _“Oh my Christ, Lance,”_ Keith muttered, stomping toward the couch to yank up his phone and hang up on his frenemy who couldn’t seem to understand that if someone doesn’t answer your text within ten minutes, they probably don’t want to talk at the moment. Then he went completely still, and Kosmo tilted his head inquisitively at his master.

Shiro.

 _Shiro_ was calling him.

Keith nearly dropped his phone as his fingers fumbled to answer. “Shiro, h-hey! What’s up?”

“Since when did you become so difficult to get a hold of?” Shiro asked with a distinct but playful pout. “I messaged you twice, but you didn’t answer.”

Keith smacked his forehead. Shiro messaged him! Not Lance. Shiro! How could he have been such a dumbass? “Oh, man, sorry. I was busy. Homework and stuff. Midterms are right around the corner.”

He kept glancing back at his laptop, straining to see from this distance if there was a new message on his screen from Panda.

“So I was wondering,” Shiro was saying, “if you were going to Allura’s get-together tomorrow. She asked me about it, so I told her that I would be there. Kinda need to get out of this office finally, anyway. Starting to feel like the walls are closing in on me.”

“Yeah, she asked me and Nadia, too. She wanted us all to go as Matches, like a triple-date kinda thing with her and Lance.”

“Rizavi is still with Griffin, isn’t she?”

“Yup. She’s not exactly happy about it, but what can she do? It’s not like we control these things.” Keith decided not to add that they were moving in together. Shiro was going to have enough on his plate as is.

Shiro sighed. “Two of my MFEs dating. That doesn’t complicate things around the office at all.”

Keith kept his personal comments to himself. No, he could not, at all, imagine how _anything_ involving Griffin could _ever_ be complicated.

“So how about it?” Shiro asked. “You coming?”

“It’s not like I don’t want to, but, Shiro, we’re not matched anymore. Kinda takes the point out of a triple-date.”

”Have you been matched again?”

Interesting question that Keith pointedly refused to read too much into. ”No, not yet.”

“Me, either. So even if we were to get new Matches soon, weeeell, we wouldn’t meet up with them until dinner at the Hub, right? Sooooo, ummmm, I guess that kinda gives us both all day tomorrow to just, y’know, hang out together and stuff.”

Shiro’s obvious hesitation sounded kind of cute right now, to be honest. Keith scratched the back of his head. Shiro wasn’t asking him out. They were just gonna hang out together tomorrow.

As friends.

With two other couples.

“Ummmmm...” He glanced at Kosmo, as if his pet would be of any help. Kosmo didn’t care about anything so long as his bowl was full, and he went out on his regular walks. Speaking of, the alien wolf was already walking away with a flip of his fluffy blue tail toward the door, hinting at his dumb master about his earlier promise. Then Keith’s gaze trailed over to the kitchen where his Coach sat at its usual spot on the counter. Blank and unknowing. He could probably even leave the damn thing here and not have to worry about it at all.

“Yeah. I’m totally down.”

“Great! Cool,” Shiro added as if he realized he sounded too enthusiastic. “We haven’t hung out together in a while. Outside of the program, I mean. It’ll be nice. Fun.”

“Yeah,” Keith said again. Apparently, that was all he was capable of saying.

He wondered if he should tell his new internet friend PurplePanda31 about this. They’d probably get a kick out of it. But it wasn’t like this was a date. Hanging out together as friends at an arcade wasn’t breaking any rules.

But if this was a date, then who would know, anyway?

Who would even know?


End file.
